Profane Comics: Puckadoodle (Page 11)

Click to ENLARGE. Page 11.

In which the Doctor and Queen discuss Puck's...propensity for "free-love." Just a bit of comic relief. Fae sexuality is quite different from the mortal world, but even by their standards, Puck is promiscuous.

 
Profane Comics: "Puckadoodle Dandy!"
Past Pages: Page 1, Page 2, Page 3, Page 4, Page 5, Page 6, Page 7 Page 8, Page 9, Page 10
 Or hop over to the INDEX for Profane Tales/Comics.

Profane Comics: "Birthday Fantasy Cock-Block"

"Puck's Birthday Wish"

In which Gelding cock-blocks Puck, even in his fantasies. Poor Puck.

Profane Comics: quickie- "rut"

comic quickies: Puck snagged the Queen's whip... Click to ENLARGE.

More coming soon! Exams/Projects taking up much time but we are in for some fun soon.

Draining the Humor- Epilogue

Epilogue

Orion followed Bri into the parlor. There was a heavy April shower outside and the falling was pattering the roof, but peaceful.

Charles, Lucy and Amadeus were playing cards at the table. Charles was cursing in good humor, challenging something his wife had said. Meanwhile, Lucy chattered back while laughing, her red dress blending with the table cloth. Amadeus took a swallow of his wine and then turned in Orion’s direction and smiled.

Bri’s manner had softened toward the sailor. She now understood Charles method toward Orion. Like mad-doctor, Charles had needed to drain the bad humors from his ex-lover, to force him to heal. For that Bri was grateful.

Bri smirked and pulled her husband by his sleeve. For once he did not seem afraid of their company and for that, she was immensely grateful to Amadeus. The two got along smashingly. Bri sat opposite her man and he claimed a chair beside Amadeus.

The five continued laying the cards down among idle chitchat and Bri watched Orion smile up at Amadeus with innocence. She could tell his hand must be on the bigger man’s thigh. The other night, she heard her husband give in, letting himself go and offering himself up to Amadeus. In the room beside hers, she heard them make love all night and she tried not to laugh, with fodder to tease her husband the next day and with relief. Orion had released himself from restriction.

“Happy birthday, Muffin,” Bri told him, managing to whisper. Her laugh popped up and Orion laughed.

“Are you ready, dear?”

She nodded and Orion stood.

“The real reason we called you here was because we have an announcement to make.”

Lucy covered her mouth, crystal eyes widening. Charles cocked a brow and Amadeus looked on with his usual intensity.

“Brigid and I are expecting.”

Lucy squeaked and Charles gave Orion a generous nod. “Well done, Orion. Well done.”

Lucy stood, breaking the general eloquence and threw her arms around Bri. It was that moment she realized she loved the Arteberrys and their friend Amadeus.

“Brigid, congratulations, darling!”

Charles raised his glass and it was understood. The others did as well.

“To the Hookwell’s healthy infant. The fourth earl of Constance, perhaps.”

When the giddiness wore off, and the wine was taking its effect, Bri climbed the stairs to the largest room on the first floor. She threw open the balcony doors to breathe in the fresh air. From this location, the view was perfect for the pond. Bri watched the swans and leaned on the stone banister. There was a light drizzle that wet her, but the air was hot and the stickiness was womblike. She herself had never met her mother. She remembered a baby of her own once, long ago, the product of a terrible intrusion on her body. How she had wanted to keep the infant, but how she knew she would have to give it up to people who could care for it.

“It’s a beautiful view,” Orion’s voice found her.

“Like you,” she half-teased, but her sincerity was right beneath her skin. She felt tears welling up.

Yesterday her husband had told her all at last. She was still coming to terms with how someone could betray such a gentle creature as Orion. At the end of the broken heart, there was the worst fate, being locked in a madhouse in an attempt to get him out of the way. The fact that he escaped and functioned in society was a miracle in itself.

“Like you,” Orion took her face in his hands. “Thank you, Bri.”

She noticed that Orion had brought company. Mini Muffin, the baby swan with the bad wing.

“I told you I was right. You feel better now, don’t you?” she said, petting the swan.

“Holding it in was…rottenness. It festered. The older I had gotten, the harder it would have been to tell you. I am glad we did before the baby,” he stopped himself. His voice had caught.

Bri took his face now and stood on tiptoe to kiss him. “You’re going to be a father.”

“I know, Bri. Thank you, Bri. You set me free.”

“I think Mini Muffin is well,” he announced.

“Darling, his wing is deformed.”

Orion smirked and let the baby swan go, it flapped its good wings and flew from the balcony to join its family. Bri gaped at Orion.

They embraced as the drizzle fell heavier.

© 2011 Luz Briar. All Rights Reserved.

Draining the Humor (7)-a day at the races

7-a day at the races

As Bri had always noticed, a spat between two men quickly subsided.

Soon she and her husband were at the town racetrack, alongside the Arteberrys. Once again, their family friend Amadeus lingered with them. Charles, Orion and Amadeus were discussing which horse to place a bet on. But Bri leaned against Lucy, feeling overly hot and a little woozy. Lucy had an arm about her waist, and the affection of another, more radiant woman was refreshing. She was keeping the discomfort to herself for now, hoping it would pass.

As the horses kicked up a cloud of dust in their race, Bri continued to lean on Lucy where they sat in the stands. The taller woman stroked her hair.

“Gentlemen, I believe Lady Hookwell needs some water.”

Amadeus stood. When Bri shut her eyes in the heat, she could hear he and Orion discussing things in hushed tones. When she opened her eyes she watched Amadeus leave and followed her husband’s eyes as he watched him. He was the one to return with refreshments, his arms big enough to carry five of them. Lucy put a glass to Bri’s mouth and she sipped. She felt her husband’s hand on her back, but his tone was low as he spoke to Amadeus.

She thought she recognized the tone. It was innocent but teasing, almost suggestive. Bri squinted in the sunlight and saw Amadeus hand the drink to Orion. They exchanged smiles.

Bri winced against her nausea. She was grateful Charles sat on the far end, away from her and she was in between Lucy and her husband.

She was beyond gratitude when the winning horse was announced. She got to her feet and asked for Lucy’s aid, “I need to find a chamber pot… or a privy…I…”

“Yes, dear,” Lucy aided her to her feet and the women left in search of privacy and an orifice for Bri to empty the contents of her stomachs.

Lucy did not need to tell Bri what her illness might mean. Both women knew, but neither spoke of it. When they left the outhouse, the crowd was dispersing, still angered.

“How could a horse named Giggles win! What a travesty!” someone was exclaiming.

In the stands, Charles, Orion and Amadeus were waiting. Only Orion sat, as his two companions seemed to be discussing something of great interest. As Bri and Lucy returned, Bri tried to ignore the horrid aftertaste in her mouth and smile at Orion. When he saw her, he scooted over for her and held her when she sat. He kissed her forehead. “My love, are you ill?”

She shook her head, but before she could answer, Charles’ sharp voice interjected.

“By the way, Orion, have you seen Lawrence about town with the rent boy?”

Bri could feel Orion’s discomfort. “No. I don’t care to know.”

“Apparently he’s taken to a particular rent boy and treating him like a love. Those of us at the docks find it hilarious, we’ve seen the boy before.”

“I am glad to hear Lawrence is getting along well.”

“You’re not, Orion,” Charles responded.

Bri grimaced. What was Arteberry attempting! To hurt Orion because of the recent rejection?

Bri’s face snapped up. She detected some sincerity in Charles’ face this time. The words were harsh, but the tone was not lacking meaning.

“You’ve heard of it. Does it disgust you?” Charles spoke with his usual confidence. “If it does you ought to say something instead of letting it fester.”

“I think nothing of it.”

“You do, Orion.”

“And now I shall be told what I think?”

“Oh, bloody hell, Orion! This again?”

“We are in the presence of others, Charles…” Orion answered, a rasp forming in his deep voice. Bri felt his grasp on her loosen as he withdrew into himself. “What I think about Lawrence and his rent boy is none of your concern.”

“Then why isn’t it yours?”

Orion shut his eyes in clear exasperation. Bri did not like the tension in the air. It was not wise to corner Orion in this manner, but it seemed to be Charles’ goal. They were outside, in the stands at a race track and though they were alone, it did not seem the best place for an intervention.

“Charles! Can you please—“ Bri jumped in, only to have Orion squeeze her hand softly for silence.

“Ah, perhaps it is the novelty.” Charles shrugged, looking at Amadeus.

Amadeus did not look humored. He was glaring daggers in Charles’ direction.

“The novelty of what?” Bri demanded.

“Meeting a man who was not so in denial of himself. Even if he is a rent boy, at least he will not run away…”

The group fell quiet and Bri shook her head. Orion closed his eyes and put his face in his hand, “Charles, there are things you do not understand.”

“Orion, there is more to the world than what those men did to you.”

Orion raised his eyes to Charles for the first time. His glare was piercing, and his words came out like venom, “Is there, Charles? Thank you so much for telling me? Now kindly teach me how to erase the trauma and I will. Kindly teach me the way to be a stronger person so that I will add up to your level of fortitude.”

Orion stood and he met Charles face-to-face. Bri anticipated a punch to Charles’ face. Alas, it never came.

“There is so much more to the world, Charles. And it is all like you. It assumes everything and asks no questions. The less it learns, the more it thinks it knows. And then…it Preaches! Denial! Denial! DENIAL? You think that is what this is about!”

Orion was raising his voice, something Bri had never heard before.

“Denial! Yes, this is about the petty ‘I am this’ or ‘I am that!’ That is all it is about, isn’t it! Words! Bloody fucking words! And what those men did to me? You do not even know! Do you know what leeching is, Charles? What about cupping! Bleeding, hm? How about starving and cold water treatment? What about being left for dead? Yes, Charles! O, yes! There is more to the world! There is much more! I wonder if you even know what it is, Hypocrit!” he was so angry he was spitting and yelling, and now he stormed off.

In his path a stray dog stopped and whimpered at the sight of him.

Bri found she was backed up into Lucy, her head practically in the woman’s bosom. She wanted to turn and hide her face in them.

All eyes fell on Charles and he sighed, “Brigid, I think he will talk now…”

© 2011 Luz Briar. All Rights Reserved.

Draining the Humor (6)- forbidden

6-forbidden

Orion was able to forgive Brigid for her unruliness at the opera. He also forgave Charles, who had not apologized formally, but whom he knew was like a leech for emotions. He had merely discovered a pet peeve of Bri’s and sought to exploit it for the emotional satisfaction of it. It was nothing personal.

But for Bri’s birthday, Charles, Lucy and their friend Amadeus were invited to tea. Orion felt his energy drain when he saw the couple in the parlor, chatting with his wife.

He stepped forward and kissed Lucy’s hand before he shook Charles’. The man’s grip was firm. He was recalling after the opera how Charles had insinuated Orion should visit him some time. His way was still seductive, even in his forties these days. He recalled years ago, at the tender age of eighteen, when he had fallen prey to the seduction. He knew better now.

Behind the couple, Amadeus was looking on like a guard. Orion smiled to him, despite his intimidating air and the German smiled back. He and the man had not spoken much during the opera, but at intermission they had a short exchange about Charles. He recalled Amadeus being straight-forward, but consoling in an odd way.

He means nothing by it, Amadeus assured Orion. He is an emotional leech. I know him well.

Amadeus was the godfather of Lucy and Charles’ daughter after all. The daughter…who had gone missing.

He shook the man’s hand, pushing the depression down. “Thank you for coming, Mr. Frunberg.”

“Pleasure, my lord.”

He noticed Amadeus’ package, tucked under a powerful arm.

“What have you got there? Is it for me…or my wife?”

The man’s blue eyes followed Orion’s gaze and he responded, “We have a gift for Brigid.”

“May I open it now!” she exclaimed.

The party moved to the drawing room where a pleasant conversation was led by Lucy. She took the reins socially, as usual. It was not quite evening yet, but it was Brigid’s celebration, so the wine was brought out early. The Arteberrys did not seem to mind, and that was likely light drinking for Charles. The sailor downed his glass in one gulp.

Orion noted a quiet change in Charles. Though he had always been sulky in moments of silence, there was now a true hint of melancholy.

When they moved on to board games and idle chitchat, Orion became more curious about Amadeus. He was a man of few words. He was a commoner, but his dignity spoke for itself. There seemed a laconic understanding between the two men. He even nodded to Orion when the conversation ran dry.

Brigid finally retrieved her gift from its package and pulled out a large porcelain doll. It was breathtaking.

“Oh…” she stared. “Where did you…?”

“It was a group effort,” Lucy cooed.

Before Bri could ask how, Charles jumped in, “Lucy caught it, I killed it and Amadeus stuffed it.”

“It looks hand-made,” Orion whispered, smiling at Charles’ joke.

“Amadeus makes dolls,” Charles spoke in earnest. “That’s his profession. Lucy sewed the clothes and I bought the materials. It was group effort.”

Bri embraced Lucy and thanked the two men.

“How long have you made dolls?” Orion asked Amadeus, almost whispering again.

“Say, since I was fifteen perhaps.”

***

By sundown, it seemed the three were going to disperse soon. Bri was still giddy with the idea of a real birthday party, Orion could tell. She had admitted to him last year that she was without a real her whole life. She scraped her way from the dirt in Indian to a dislocated British nurse, and raising herself a waif from orphanage to orphanage, Bri had never fit into upper society.

But the Arteberrys were delightfully offbeat and she was clearly fond of them. Even Charles.

Bri insisted they stay the night, rather than ride back to their estate in darkness. It worried Orion, as he met with Charles’ eyes shyly and he looked away. There was much he remembered about their mistake many years ago, that he did not wish to drag back into the light. There was much he admired about Charles; his bluntness, his bravery, his intelligence. But to dwell on them would mean he would succumb again. His heart was far too vulnerable.

As he walked the halls to his bedroom late that night, he and Charles’ paths crossed. It was inevitable, their shadows tangled. They eyed one another and Orion went to circle Charles but the older man caught his arm. When he was pressed against the wall by the sailor, he allowed it, savoring the force.

“Orion,” Charles whispered, “Does your wife need you in bed? Are you trying to procreate every week night? Because it is a Saturday, I’ll have you note.”

“We are doing what we can…she cannot begrudge me a night off I suppose…” Orion returned his playful tone.

“I think I know what you need, my lord.”

“What is that, Charles?” he asked, having forgotten how nice his aggression was.

Charles leaned in and whispered lewd things in Orion’s ear. He gulped and wrapped his arms around the man’s waist. He scooted against the wall, feeling for the nearest door. Bri was right, he needed some kind of satisfaction. The tension was weighing on his physical form.

As Orion nearly fell back into the unlit guest room, with Charles still on him, he tried to catch his breath. Charles pushed him onto the nearest coach and began to seize control.

“How long has it been?”

“Years, Charles…” Orion spoke in between a kiss. “…since you and I…”

“Fucked. Say the word, love.”

But he could not bring himself to say the word. His mind kept racing to other things, as pleasant as the touching was, as enthralled with the idea he felt…he could not stop thinking about it.

The urgency seized them and they began to shed their clothing, bound toward the forbidden.

But Orion’s mind ran back to Lawrence and his promises. It ran back to his very first lover, the doctor who he refused to even speak with today. The broken vows, the false sense of security. The actual, physical pain when Orion was struck down. At fifteen years old, he had not been much of a match for a full grown man. Today, he could easily overcome someone. But he was still a child in those days…

“Orion,” Charles shook him beneath him. “Hello? Are you lost?”

He realized that Charles had been indulging but that he was far off, lost in the past. The memory of being slammed against the wall with strong hands around his throat.

Bloody, stupid spoiled sodomite!

He pushed Charles off, more roughly than he had intended. “I have to go…”

He closed his shirt and buttoned it, looking around frantically for any other clothing that had been tossed aside. The scant sunlight that peaked through the half-drawn curtain left things dark. Orion knelt on the floor, feeling.

“I see you have not changed much, my lord,” Charles quipped.

Orion seized his shoes and then looked at Charles’ in the half-light. “What are you implying?”

“You are as predictable as the weather in the year you were born,” Charles spat. His voice sounded metallic and distant. Charles was not rejected often, most likely. He was infamous for his sexual prowess.

He referred to 1816, the highlight of chaotic seasons. Very well. “Perhaps then you should find a lover who is more your temperament. For now I have to be alone…”

Running away again, Rion.

He groped for the bedroom door and flung it open. But before he left, he added, “By the way I was born in 1817, Charles.”

He rushed to his private chamber and threw his shoes aside. Where he sat, the very last of the daylight fell on him as he shielded his face in his hands. The warmth was retreating into the night. He tried with all his might to push the memories down. Shame, lies, his mother’s death, the madhouse.

The madhouse; he could not even reflect on that without screaming.

The bedroom door creaked open and small, shuffling footsteps introduced Brigid.

“Muffin…you hold too much in.”

“Brigid, I want to be alone right now.”

“What are you trying to prove, Orion? There’s nothing wrong with the way you are.”

“I did not say there was.”

“Then why not do what makes you feel good?” her voice was getting shrill, he could feel her prickling. He could also feel her assumptions and it pushed him.

“Brigid, you do not understand…”

He met her eyes so that she could see he was weeping. Perhaps then she would understand. When the woman saw his tears she frowned. It was hard to detect in the dark, but her eyes may be watering with his. Not even Brigid knew about the madhouse. Only the men who had thrown Orion there, in hopes that he would rot, knew he was a former Bedlamite.

“Talk to me, Orion…” she begged, her voice small.

“Later…” he promised.

He would tell her in time. But not tonight. Tonight he wanted all eyes off of him. He wanted to stay in the dark.

If there was a sound for resignation, he would have heard it when Bri hung her head and left her husband to dwell, battling the past.

© Luz Briar. All Rights Reserved.

Draining the Humor (5)- a night at the opera

5-a night at the opera

The Arteberrys and the Hookwells set up a date for an outing.
Lucy had a supporting role in an upcoming London opera, and the couples decided the event would be a good occasion to socialize afterwards.
Orion arranged to get them a booth, but stepping up the stairs, a foot shot out of one of the private booths and Orion nearly tripped.
The curtains were drawn aside and Charles revealed himself. He smirked at the couple and Bri’s laugh erupted. Half the opera house turned to stare and hiss for silence. Bri hid her face in Orion’s shirt as he shrugged and stepped forward.
Bri took in Charles’ appearance. As always, he was appealing, though today he had dressed rather nicely for his wife’s show. Not like a sailor at all. He even had his longish hair pulled back, giving him an almost feminine look.
But there was someone there Bri recognized but could not name.
The muscular blonde man she had seen at Lucy’s piano a few weeks ago.
“Charles, we were heading to our booth,” Orion announced.
“Nonsense. You’re sitting with Amadeus and I. He is a bore in conversation. A good chap, but a bloody bore.”
Amadeus shrugged, apparently used to Charles’ bluntness.
“Have we met?” Bri interrupted, nodding to Amadeus.
Already, Charles was eyeing Orion. The earl looked away shyly and Bri squeezed his hand.
Amadeus answered gruffly, his voice thick with a German accent, “Ch’ay. Not formally. Amadeus Frunberg, my lady.”
“Brigid Hookwell,” she gave a small bow. “And this is my husband Lord Hookwell.”
Amadeus nodded in acknowledgement, apparently a man of few words.
Charles easily compensated for Amadeus’ silence.
“Lucy sings a love song and then exits. I’m considering doing the same, except I’d be beaten if I left early. Perhaps you two can bloody well entertain me during this thing.”
“You don’t like opera, Mr. Arteberry?” Bri asked.
“Charles does not like most things,” Orion spoke as he allowed his wife to sit first. “He can be quite harsh.”
“But that is what you like about me, isn’t it, my lord?”
Orion merely changed the topic. “What is the role your wife shall play?”
“A Queen reminiscing a young romance. Her lover died as a result of their copulating and because he was a commoner had his head whacked off. It’s tearful and lovely and all that mess. Brigid,” Charles snapped them out of their comfort zone by calling her by her first name. “I know my brother Stephen must have taken you to operas before. Did you ever fall asleep during one?”
“I think they sing too loud for me to go to sleep, Charles,” she returned the casual address. “Have you?”
“No, but I have had my cock sucked in one of these private booths. During a very long solo from a diva. I find people suck better when they are bored.”
Amadeus rolled his eyes and Bri took Orion’s hand.
Charles was as aggressive as she recalled. Orion’s emotions were not yet legible. He was staring ahead at the stage as the overture came swelling to its grand middle. His green eyes cleared a bit and he turned to look at Charles.
It was then Bri wondered how two creatures, so contrast in their ways, could have united even for one night of passion.
“Charles, will you behave for your wife’s sake?” Orion asked.
“I wonder if I ever have,” Charles challenged the earl.
Bri would be more comfortable talking to Charles and Orion about their ulterior motifs if Amadeus was not present. She looked the man over. He was rather strapping, but did not seem the type Charles would befriend. Charles’ brown eyes narrowed when he saw Bri surveying Amadeus. He quipped, “I see you like Germans, Brigid.”
Bri laughed. “As pleasant as you are, Charles. I believe my husband and I will go to our own booth now. He did pay good money for it, after all.”
She squeezed Orion’s hand and he stood, apparently agreeing. If he had not, he would contradict her. Sometimes he did, as he was not one to follow blindly, something Bri admired in him. But he was also submissive when he agreed with a thing. And right now their private booth sounded good. They would reunite with their friends later.
Charles watched with an annoyed expression as they left. Bri sensed he would follow and leave Amadeus alone. Perhaps then, the three of them could discuss things. But the overture was coming to an end and Bri doubted there would be time to discuss anything at all.
Orion gestured again, allowing Bri to sit first. She stared up at him when she was seated and tugged his hand affectionately. He sat beside her and they shared a quick kiss.
“No snogging during the overture,” came Charles’ snide voice.
They met with his mocking gaze as he seated himself to Orion’s left. Bri rolled her eyes at the sailor. At least he was not unappealing like Lawrence. He was more the type Orion should be with, physically. There was always something delicate about Charles’ face, as though he were sad beneath the difficult mask he wore. Bri knew that about two years prior, Charles and Lucy’s daughter Adelaide had gone missing. She guessed the missing child would have something to do with Charles’ melancholy.
Now he was smiling at Orion, genuinely it seemed. “I apologize for Amadeus. He is a family friend and we try to include him in our outings. He enjoys solitude at times. It shows in his response when I speak to him.”
“Perhaps your conversation does not stimulate him,” Orion’s deep voice contrasted Charles’ both in softness and depth.
Charles crooned, “Is someone critical of my conversational skills?”
“Not at all, Arteberry. I find you very engaging, when you choose to be.”
The two men exchanged mocking looks as the music stopped and all went silent. Bri wrapped her arm around her husband’s arm and rested her head on his shoulder.
As the opera opened and the singers demanded attention, all was peaceful. However, Bri was quickly lost to the plotline.
“Muffin,” she whispered. “Did you grab a program?”
“No, love. I’m sorry.”
Charles rolled his eyes, “Orion, your wife’s whisper is louder than her speaking voice!”
“I’m right here, Mr. Arteberry! If you have a complaint, you can direct it toward me.”
“Ah, but you are sitting way over there.”
“Children,” Orion spoke up softly, “Let’s be polite…”
With that Bri and Charles simmered down. However, Bri dwelt on Charles’ little insult. He had always been such a heel, but why could he not be upfront about it with her as he was with everyone else? Why could he not be a heel to her face? It had always been so, even when Bri was Stephen’s wife.
Stephen, your wife laughs like a man.
Bri was fuming when she heard Charles mumble something about a solo a little soprano had did. Something about it being “subtle.” Of course, he was being sarcastic. Bri rolled her eyes and whispered loudly “Orion, you’re right. Your lover doesn’t care for most things!”
“Orion, your wife is ‘whispering’ again,” Charles shot back.
“If you have complaints, I’m right here!” Bri exclaimed.
“She sounds quite angry, my lord! Did you bring her medicine?”
“Medicine! I don’t have medicine, you twat!”
“Brigid!” Orion looked at her.
By now, their voices were raised and someone pulled their curtain aside and thrust their head in. “Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!”
The three of them shut their mouths. Orion looked at his shoes, Bri folded her arms to pout and Charles grinned at both of them triumphantly.
Bri seethed as she stared at him, wanting to smack the smirk off his face. The thought that he had ever touched her innocent Orion made her stomach turn.
“You are a mite,” she hissed in a whisper. “A nasty, snarky little blood-sucking mite!”
Charles snorted and said nothing. He seemed quite proud to be insulted.
“Brigid, love, please…” Orion begged her for silence.
Surely someone would complain to them again if they kept arguing. But now Bri could not focus on the opera. She lifted her opera-glasses to view the performers better, but her mind was still elsewhere.
When she heard Charles mumble one more thing, she lost her temper.
“You be quiet, you! And don’t touch my husband!”
With that, Orion stood, threw back the side curtain and stepped out. Bri and Charles watched him before Bri felt her heart sink. She dropped the opera glasses and hurried after him down the stairs.
“Muffin!” she yelled. “Muffin! I’m sorry!”
He was not turning back around. He was returning to the booth with Amadeus, escaping Bri and Charles.
When she caught up with him, he was about to duck into the booth. All eyes in the audience were following them as the opera players continued valiantly on with their performance.
“I’m sorry, Rion! Come back.”
“Do not follow me, Brigid.”
“But—“
“You embarrass me. Argue with him but do it without me,” he spoke to her with a sideways glance, cold.
Then he disappeared into the booth with Amadeus. Bri hung her head and progressed back up the steps in shame. Eyes were still on her. When she returned to the booth with Charles, he was no longer grinning. Like her, he seemed shaken by Orion’s departure.
By the time Lucy appeared on the stage to sing her sad song, Bri and Charles had whispered their apologies. At the short intermission, she asked, “How long do you think he will be angry at me?”
“Hell hath no wrath like an insecure earl, my dear. But you know the bugger better than I…though if I remember correctly, he has a big heart.”
Bri had detected a hint of real sadness in Charles when Lucy was singing. Perhaps he was not completely without sentiment.
“I am going to run to the booth and apologize to him…”
“You had better run fast, my lady.”
“How long do I have?”
“Not long. The intermission is as long as your patience.”
She took the jibe in stride and then stood, ready to scurry to Orion to apologize.
© 2011 Luz Briar.

Draining the Humor (4)-two men

4-two men

When Orion received a letter from Charles Arteberry, he was frankly afraid to open it.
“What’s wrong?” Bri asked, putting her arms around his neck.
He was in his office chair, and she pressed behind him to see the letter.
“O. Charles wrote to you?”
Bri snatched the letter up.
“I’m not enthusiastic about reading it, love.”
“Want me to read it to you?”
“Perhaps you should not—“
Before he could stop his wife, she had torn open the envelope and pulled out the parchment.
“Ahem,” she cleared her throat, “Dear Orion, your lovely wife Brigid has spoken to Lucy about a few things and Lucy suggests I head over to your estate and fuck you, because you’re tense. But my dear friend, I know how prudish you can be so I’m not going to take a bloody long trip to your estate just to have you say ‘No, sleep in the guest room while I attempt to bugger my wife so we can have a cute little infant to be the fourth earl of Constance.” Also, on that topic, if your wife is finding it hard to make you hard, perhaps she should stick her fingers in your asshole while you Try to bugger her. It has been known to work for those less-strict Sodomites. In any case, send word for me and I will be over to bugger you in the ass. Or the face. It’s your choice, my lord. Your wife can join in if she wants. Love, Charles. PS—You may want to burn this letter, my lord. What with the county already talking about how you are going to Hell and all that. To the fire place! C.”
Bri dropped the note and stared off into space. Orion was covering his face.
“He’s eloquent, isn’t he, Muffin?”
Orion snatched the letter from Bri and began to tear it up slowly. “Yes. He is quite a poet. He always has been. You know I fall for that type.”
When he tossed the scraps away he set his head on the desk.
He was not sure what it was about arrogance that made him listen. His history of lovers were not friendly, and he doubted this would ever change. Perhaps that was another reason he wanted it to end.
Bri frowned at Orion. “I was only trying to help…you just seem so miserable since you made that stupid vow.”
“Brigid,” he straightened up and looked at her, recalling how gentle she was in bed, even as she took charge.
Such men did not exist.
“I am tired. Let’s just let it rest…”
The butler’s appearance in the office doorway made them jump.
“Mr. Lawrence Dunne is here, my lord and lady.”
Orion and Bri exchanged looks. Bri visibly began grinding her teeth.
“That ugly worm is here! No! Not after how he treated you!”
“He might want to apologize, love.”
“And then what? Will you take him back?”
Orion stared, unable to speak. He simply stood and glided from the room, leaving his wife behind.
Downstairs, he spotted Lawrence in the parlor at the piano. He held his tongue for now. His indignation was below the surface, and for now he did not want to show Lawrence how wounded he truly was by his treatment.
“Dunne,” he offered his hand, making eye contact. “To what do I owe this presence?”
“To congratulate you, Orion. How is the marriage?” spoke Lawrence, lighter than his usual tone.
“Very blissful. Thank you for asking. Would you like tea?”
A strange sound reverberated from upstairs. It was high and then deep, imitating the vocals of a mule or a donkey. Instantly, Orion covered his face and Lawrence peered upstairs with lowered eyebrows.
“What in the—“
“My wife,” Orion gestured. “Being asinine. Ignore her.”
“I am only here for a moment, Orion. I simply wanted to say—“
Brigid’s donkey sounds echoed out again, interrupting Lawrence. Orion looked away, shutting his eyes tight.
“What is she doing?”
When Orion looked back at Lawrence, he had to stifle a laugh. His teeth were rather prominent, and Bri’s joke came back to mind.
“What is so funny?”
“Nothing, Lawrence, nothing.”
“Well, I’ll be leaving. This is between you and I, not your wife.”“It’s between you and your hand! Orion thought. He controlled his temper, as usual.
Lawrence mentioning Bri had been the breaking point. He had no right to speak of her in such a way.
“Orion, I came to apologize.”
“I’m not interested in your apology. You have no idea what manners or common courtesy are. Perhaps if I was treated with some dignity, perhaps if you had attended the wedding as a friend, then…Please leave or I will have you escorted out.”
When Lawrence left in a huff, Orion rushed upstairs and found Bri in her private chamber spinning at the loom.
“You are such a child,” he announced.
“Is that why you laughed?”
He smiled despite himself. “I told him to leave.”
“Good. You don’t need his humbug apology.”
Orion came to sit beside her, pulling up a stool. “Why did you tell Lucy, Bri?”
“Because I love you and I hate to see you so miserable. I know you and Charles have a history. I thought…it could relieve tension.”
He ran a hand through her hair, tucking a strand behind her ear. “Darling, don’t worry about me…”
© 2011 Luz Briar.

story: Draining the Humor (2)

2- Finding comfort

Three weeks from their wedding, and Orion felt ravaged by his wife. In a good way.
He was tired but he had an excuse to go to bed early and he enjoyed the exhaustion she pushed on him. His only complaint was the tension in his back, seemingly unrelated to the marriage. Brigid Salud had been more than the best choice for a spouse, she was the object of Orion’s deepest affections.
That is why he was so puzzled at the pain in his back. He called on the local doctor for advice and was met instead with some scathing remarks.
“Perhaps you should take a break in the weeks following your honeymoon.”
“A break from what exactly, doctor?” Orion asked, seated in his arm chair. His back was bothering him again. “I don’t do heavy lifting of any sort.”
“From heavy lifting?” the doctor grunted. “Yes, a break from heavy lifting.”
Orion narrowed his eyes at the man. He could not comprehend the amount of disdain people often channeled in his direction. He had never wronged any of the people of Constance, and yet his melodramatic teen years haunted him still.
Sodomy. Transvestite. How I loathe the words.
“For your records, doctor,” Orion spoke up, protecting himself with a layer of coldness. “I have not been heavy lifting and nor have I lifted anything heavy in a while. Assumptions are the twin of ignorance.”
Nor did Orion see how ‘heavy lifting,’ as the doctor called it, would have to do with his back.
“What is wrong with my back, doctor?”
“Tension then,” the older man spoke quickly. “It is tension. It is best to relax for a while. Perhaps you have overstressed yourself.”
“I have been on honeymoon for the past two weeks. What would I be stressed about?”
“That is for you to answer,” the doctor’s tone dropped again, condescending.
“I believe then, I must nip it in the bud and find out the cause.”
“That would be best.”
“Very well.”
“Good.”
Orion hit a bell on the desk, causing the doctor to jump.
His apathy towards medical men sometimes swayed into disgust and right now he did not wish to see the man. The butler appeared at the office door and Orion told him, “Please show the good doctor out.”
He did not even wish to escort the man out. He took a seat back at his desk as he recovered from the doctor’s accusations. He returned to his paperwork but was unable to follow his own strain of thought. As he set the quill back to paper, Bri’s laugh made him jump.
“The doctor was useless, wasn’t he?” she laughed.
He collected himself. “Quite useless. Most of them are…”
“Oh dear. What did he say?” she leaned over him, her face next to his.
“Essentially he accused me of being unfaithful to you and of being a sinful, dirty sodomite.”
“Oh,” she frowned. “Darling, there’s nothing sinful and dirty about you.”
He put his face in his hands and allowed himself to sigh loudly. He felt his wife’s hand in his hair and it calmed him a bit. “I have kept my vow.”
“I know, darling. But there is no need to. I know you love me. I have my own theories about your tension.”
“Enlighten me,” he told her.
To most, it would have sounded cold and sarcastic. But Bri knew Orion and his odd ways of communicating. He was sincere when he asked her opinion.
“You are trying far too hard to prove yourself to be something you are not.”
He thought this over. The shadow of his late father loomed over him daily. The “mad earl,” the deviant and the lunatic. His own youth added to the weight of what it seemed he must disprove. He knew that Bri was making a valid point.
“In any case, Brigid,” he cleared his throat. “Even if I had not made the vow, Lawrence has moved to London and—“
“Bloody Lawrence!” Bri spat.
Her unconscious laugh exploded and she removed the warmth of her body from him. She began to pace.
“Really, Rion! Lawrence! He is bloody ugly and unpleasant!”
Orion righted himself and watched her calmly. He felt the serpent of indignation uncoiling in his stomach, but for now he was quiet. He would allow her to ramble and rant about his former lover.
“You could have any man you want, Orion! And you choose Lawrence! The bugger is worse than me! His teeth try to escape his face! He is mean-spirited and ugly. He is a donkey!”
“Brigid—“
“A Donkey, Orion! A donkey!”
“That’s quite enough!” he stood and pushed the desk chair in.
He was remaining quiet by an act of will. This was a fresh wound and he did not feel up to inspecting it right this moment.
Bri hung her head, her large eyes full of guilt. “I’m sorry…I just don’t like him. He talks to you as if you are an idiot. And you could have any man you want.”
He did not want to dwell on it.
You have chosen the SAFE path, is what Lawrence had told Orion when he asked his lover, in person, to attend the wedding. Lawrence had sneered at him and cut off all contact.
Orion rushed to the privacy of his own bedchamber and locked the door. Bri knew better than to follow right away. He wanted the silence.
“The safe path…” he breathed, leaned against the door. “Sodomite. Safe path.”
The dualities struck him like dissonance on a harpsichord. Either he was a filthy degenerate or he was the coward.
**
An hour passed and Orion felt ready to speak to others again. His momentary melancholy usually lasted and hour or so, sometimes a day, and on bad times up to weeks.
Today, he was fortunate.
He immerged outside for fresh air and found Bri seated at the pond, feeding the swans. Her favorite drake, Muffin, was seated beside her like a loyal dog. His mate Crumpet was waddling about with her gaggle of babies. One of them Bri had in her lap.
When she noticed Orion, her brow was furrowed, “His wing is hurt, Orion. Look at it. It is crooked.”
The funny-looking baby animal stared up at Orion. He knelt down beside his wife. “Mini Muffin…perhaps he needs a cast. We have books in the library about animal care. I have heard their wings can heal.”
“It looks deformed.”
Muffin nipped at Bri’s ear, as if grateful. Orion stroked the birds head softly. “Do not fret, Bri. We will make him comfortable…”
(A/N: Comment/Response PLEASE. i have no way of thanking you if you remain anonymous!)
©2011 Luz Briar.

short story: Draining the Humor (1)

1- Trying for an heir

Brigid shed her second wedding gown more eagerly.
The first husband, a stuffy viscount, had been comely enough, but he had the boorish habit of snoring after consummation. Not to mention, all the passion of a rooster.
But Bri was assured that her second husband, the 3^rd Earl of Constance, would be different. The young earl had energy and passion to spare, much as he tried to hide both.
“Are you ready to bugger, Muffin?” she called from behind the changing screen. She checked her reflection, a plain woman made lovely by her white undergarments. She was no great beauty, but her body was attractive and her eyes large and doe-like.
The ceremony had been as strange as they were, and afterwards their family friends the Arteberrys had pulled Brigid aside. Lucinda Arteberry had given Bri a “love potion,” just in case he does not rise to the occasion. Bri had thanked her friend but told her she doubted they would need the potion.
“I prefer something less vulgar, darling,” Orion’s voice called to her. “Bugger is a rough word.”
“Very well. Are you ready to make love?” Bri laughed, slipping off her skirt.
When she appeared before him in her undergarments, Orion’s eyes widened. She took a seat beside him on the bed and they linked hands.
“You look wonderful, Bri. Better than in the gown,” Orion told her, his soft baritone whispering.
“Why don’t you undress for me too, Muffin?” she asked, kissing him chastely. “Please.”
He looked down, green eyes a bit nervous but he undressed with no hesitation. They were both down to their underwear and Bri sat on his lap now, grabbing a hand and guiding it to her half-exposed breasts. For a moment, Orion seemed transfixed, as he massaged them. Bri was loosening her own corset, too eager to stay dressed. Suddenly, Orion was helping her unlace with ease.
“Hm, have you had practice with this?” she teased him.
“On my own corset,” he stopped himself.
Bri’s laugh bubbled up. She knew of Orion’s ‘Reanna’ disguise and thought it was very amusing. She also thought her husband made a fair lady. He was thin but slightly muscled, with light hair and moss green eyes. His smile was gorgeous and many women envied Bri passionately.
Bri turned around now that her breasts were exposed, and she ran a hand through Orion’s hair before she kissed him with some force. He gave in and returned the kiss with vigor. They were aiming for an heir, so Bri would do everything in her power to rouse her husband. She was reaching the end of her childbearing years, after all. They needed to act quickly.
**
They both lay breathless in bed afterwards, kissing and clinging to one another.
“Brigid,” Orion panted. “I want to live up to m wedding vows…I want you to know this.”
“Muffin, I know you love me. There’s no need to—“
“No, darling. The last thing you need is a repeat of your last marriage—“
“I think a repeat would be hard to reproduce. You would not be able to divorce me for a—“
“Please, Brigid,” he grabbed her hand. “Believe me. I will lay with no other but you.”
“Lovey-Muffin—“
Orion pulled Bri to him. She was instantly lulling off in his strong, gentle embrace.
“Because I prefer gentlemen you think I cannot keep my vow…” he whispered with a tinge of sadness.
“I doubt that you should keep that particular vow, Muffin…”
Bri felt that they may have succeeded tonight, so she let the topic float away as she dozed in her husband’s arms.
She would ask him why exactly he would wish to stay faithful when his wife insisted it was not necessary. He was virtuous, she knew. But he had a lover up until recently and she had not minded sharing him in that way, knowing that emotionally he was all hers.
But at times she wondered what was spinning through his head.
(A/N: Leave feedback/responses/comments pretty please! Brand new story here.)
© 2011 Luz Briar. All Characters, Plotlines and Settings belong to the author!  Alright, I suppose I don’t own England or the Victorian era, but you know what I mean. Steal and I will come after you.

story-Earl Swan (3)

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part 3 of 6
-3-
Bri woke with her arms around someone’s waist.
She peeled her face from a pillow and found herself in Orion’s arms. They were completely nude. She gaped as the night came back to her clearly, all the kissing and the passion.
She had done illicit things with the earl and they had retired to his private bedroom. All the while, Desdemona was probably upstairs pretending to be a musical genius.
Orion looked peaceful asleep and Bri blushed as she recalled their love-making.
She felt the sudden urge to run from the mansion and hide. She had doomed them both now. When Desdemona found out…no, Des would never find out!
“Orion…” she whispered, sweeping hair from his forehead.
His eyes fluttered open and he yawned. He seemed to be in a daze and then he frowned, “Oh no…we probably should not have done that, love.”
“She never needs to know!” Bri collected his face in her hands. “Never! Now you know what you need to know to be a dutiful husband and…” she hopped out of the bed. “my work here is done.”
She saw him look away bashfully from her naked frame and she crawled back into bed, all of her boldness evaporated. Then they were embracing again, clinging to one another. They kissed once, but Bri pulled away, realizing she would want more than a kiss if she kept going.
“We must tell her,” Orion sighed.
“What! Why? She’ll kill us! She already thinks she’s a witch!”
Bri eyed him, watching him collect his thoughts. He seemed more sad than frightened.
She demanded, “What are you thinking? Tell me! What are you thinking?”
The knock on the bedroom door made them both jump. A man’s voice called through, thick with an Indian accent, “Mistress wishes to see you, Lord Hookwell.”
Orion cast Bri an apologetic look, and he looked so miserable she wanted to hold him again. But he inched out of bed.
Bri covered herself with the blanket as the earl dressed himself. She was hoping to stay there and disappear, but the covers were thrown off as she met Orion’s eyes.
He touched her shoulder softly, “Please do not flee, Bri. I want to speak with you after I speak to her…”
“One of her lackeys heard us…” she mumbled, her voice sounding raw. “I know it. One of her henchmen heard us in the study…”
“It does not matter.”
“Yes, it does! I will lose my job and she will throw you in a cauldron and make a fake witch’s brew. Or sacrifice you to Pan. Or whatever the bloody hell she thinks she can do.”
He cupped her face, soothing her, “Please remain calm. She has been sleeping with every man above the equator. She cannot tell me anything about one transgression. And I will have all the blame on me.”
Before she could protest, he threw the blanket back over her and she heard the door open and close. She waited a moment before poking her head out from under the covers.
The poor man. I have doomed him…
Though she knew it was expected of her to remain downstairs, Bri groomed herself for the day. Before the large, elaborate mirror she straightened her dress. She examined herself, still in awe at what happened. It was dawning on her how unlikely a match Orion was for her, even in an affair. True, she had a lovely shape and a few charms. But she also had an overbite and was small in stature, nothing to compare to Desdemona or any real seductress.
Content with her appearance, she patted her bun into place and headed upstairs. She checked the corners and shadows for any of Des’ henchmen. She had an array of them, most of them from India, men who had ended up in England without jobs. They were loyal to their mistress and Bri often heard them talking lewdly about the “busty rat librarian.” They did not realize she knew many languages and she understood their tongue. But she was not about to tell them that.
Bri knew that her mistress’ favorite room overlooked the fields of her vast country estate, and as she approached she heard the faint rumble of arguing.
Desdemona’s hissing whisper fighting with Orion’s soft baritone. Bri was glad that neither was screaming. Desdemona was not a fighter, so it would be highly irregular for her to scream even when enraged. As for Orion, Bri had never known him to be very militant either.
“What I am telling you, is that the fault is mine, not hers…” Orion’s voice carried through the oak door. “I exploited my position of power and made her fall.”
Bri set her ear to it, listening. She could hardly decipher Des’ words, but Orion’s lie ignited indignation. Why should he take the blame? And furthermore, why should Bri play a victim?
Bri’s cauldron of emotions pushed her forward and she pulled the latch on the door. Of course, it was locked. She knocked then, still bold.
It was Orion who opened the door, with a frown.
“…oh no. Why, Bri? Why didn’t you stay downstairs?”
“My lady,” she called out to the heiress. “It was I! I seduced your husband and not the other way around! He is too much a gentlemen to have forced himself on anyone and you know that.”
She was not thinking of her employment. She was thinking instead of how Orion cried to her when he told her the truth, how he had trusted her. How he had let her teach him…
Des was sulking by the bookcase, and her eyebrow rose as she scanned Bri. In moments like this, Des seemed like a cracked actress, who had forgotten her lines, so she focused instead on her body language.
Des’ unfeeling gaze weakened Bri then, and she withdrew into herself. Her mouth dried as did her words. She hung her head.
“Des, perhaps you should not look at this as a bad thing…”
Des neck cracked as she shot Orion a glare. “What? Not a bad thing? You diddled my assistant, my closest friend.”
“And you buggered every man in the area! HaHa!” Bri exclaimed, followed by her usual laugh.
Des bit her thumb at Bri and snarled as if to say “shut-up!”
She was feeling whorish, admittingly. But it had been passion, after all. Not dirty, meaningless buggery.
“You choose my ugly librarian over me,” Des narrowed her eyes. “Very well…Unlock the door.”
Des snapped her fingers at Bri, the usual gesture she did for compliance. Bri defied it. Orion spoke up in her defense, “Des, I did not choose anything. Now we, the two people closest to you, made a mistake. If we ask for your forgiveness, is it really so much to ask? You have insulted me weekly with your escapades. And furthermore, you will not call Ms. Salud ugly!”
Des rushed over to the door herself and flung it open. She then conversed with a manservant quickly and in a tone too low for Bri to decipher. When Des returned, she wore a sly smile. “Why don’t you both have a seat?”
She gestured to the sofa in an exaggerated manner.
“I am willing to discuss this.”
Her eyebrows were low, her smile contrived and controlled. Bri felt a violent urge to slap the woman until she stopped acting.
The lovers glanced at one another and made their way toward the sofa. Orion looked agitated, and had his face in his hands.
“Really, Desdemona. Let’s not make a big show of this. What are you planning?”
“That all depends…” Des sauntered over to the window and peered out. “I want to hear your explanation.”
“Bloody hell…” Bri grumbled.
Orion had to explain his one mistake, but Des was free from scrutiny. Bri was fuming with indignation.
The bodyguard reappeared at the door with a tray, bearing two goblets. It was set before Orion and Bri on the coffee table.
In her fury, Bri went to grab a cup and Orion’s hand seized her wrist. He shook his head at her as if in warning.
“Actually,” Des spoke, turning back to them mechanically, “I’d like to speak to Ms. Salud alone. Orion, would you let Puli escort you out? He could show you the new sword collection we have downstairs.”
“I would rather stay, thank you.” Orion spoke.
Bri sensed protectiveness in his voice.
“Don’t be afraid of Puli,” Des offered. “He is very friendly.”
“He seems very nice for a henchme—I mean—a bodyguard,” Orion casts the bald Indian a glance. “But I prefer to stay.”
The manservant had a bulbous head, a dark mustache and terrifyingly large eyes. He did not have an appearance that leant itself of gentility.
Des then made a big show of thinking. She sauntered out of the room without so much as telling them farewell. Bri looked over to Orion.
“I’m glad she left. I was about to smack her with the first heavy volume I could find…”
“We must not act foolishly now, Bri. We must handle this better than we handled our urges.”
Bri met his eyes then. “I am sorry, Orion…”
For a minute he lingered, as though he would kiss her forehead. He stood and offered her his hand. “Stay near me today. Until we know her decision. I am beginning to see what you meant about the delusions…”
Throughout that day the librarian and the earl stayed in one another’s company. Sure enough, the vast mansion seemed to be crawling with Desdemona’s servants, all waiting for a chance to pick off one of the lovers while they were alone.
In tense moments, Bri and Orion fought, arguing over what the next course of action would be. But always Bri would say something tactless and Orion would laugh, ending the fight.
The heiress herself could not be found. She avoided her fiancé and assistant throughout the day, and what she was planning they could not learn. Though, sometime during sundown, Bri overheard two of her Indian servants discussing a pond. But she could not make sense of the rest, for they were whispering in their native tongue.
It came to be dark and both of them were weary, so Orion escorted Bri to her room.
“I must confess, I am afraid to sleep under this roof tonight…” she told him.
“Desdemona is delusional, Bri. But she is bark and no bite,” Orion promised.
“I would not be so sure, Muffin.”
“Then sleep with me,” he offered.
“That is what got us into this mess…” Bri reminded him. “If we share a bed…surely it will happen again.”
Orion hung his head and nodded, “I suppose you are right. But if anything should happen, come to me. Do not hesitate to scream.”
“I will scream for you, my lord. Only promise to do the same for me.”
He smiled, “I will scream most vigorously.”
They leaned in, almost kissing, but instead he kissed her forehead. They stood in this position for a time and Bri could hear his breath catch in his throat. He wanted to kiss her, she knew. But he was controlling himself. Instead his hand found her left ear and massaged it, making her laugh.
“Goodnight, Bri. Lock your doors.”
“You do the same, Muffin.”
In her private bedchamber, Bri not only locked her doors but pushed what she could in front of it. She knew the heiress had skeleton keys and she did not want any visitors in the night. With a clothing chest, a chair and a small cabinet in front of the door, Bri felt secure for herself. But she feared for the earl. He did not seem to share her opinion that Desdemona was both delusional and dangerous.
As she dozed off that night, his voice stayed with her and she tried not to dwell on it. If something should happen to him, she would never forgive herself.
Come morning, the earl was nowhere to be found.
Bri searched all of his usual haunts; the library, the study, his bedchamber. Her panic did not set in until she was on her knees in his room, desperately looking beneath the bed.
In the hallway, rushing along with her skirts up, she ran into one of the servants. The man glared at her, took in the sight of her cleavage and then asked, “Why do you run?”
“I cannot find the earl! Have you seen him?”
“The mistress wants to speak to you.”
“Answer my question!”
The man seized her wrist and she squeaked, kneeing him in the groin.
“How dare you!” she hissed. “You cannot touch me!”
“Brigid,” came a soft female voice.
She turned and met with Desdemona’s sneer.
“Why must you attack everything that is mine?”
“My lady, where is the earl? Did he leave?”
“I don’t know,” Des answered, pouting. “And I don’t care. I would like to speak to you.”
“Did you order your servant to manhandle me?”
“No, he took that liberty on his own. Perhaps he thought you would like it,” she mocked.
“Don’t toy with me, Lady Parade.”
“Come upstairs, will you? I am not angry.”
After Bri gave the servant an angry nod and turned around, she followed the heiress upstairs but watched her back. She looked in every corner for lurking servants. In India, as a teenager with no home, Bri became accustomed to defending herself against lurking human predators. Still frazzled from being grabbed without warning, she was back to her more feral fight-mode. Though little, Bri could be fierce.
In Desdemona’s favored room, overlooking the fields, the mistress and servant situated themselves. Bri could not bring herself to sit. She stood and folded her arms, waiting for the heiress to speak.
“You’ve helped me to make a decision, Brigid,” Des told her, sitting by the window. “I have been considering it for a long time. But now I know what I must do.”
“And what’s that, my lady?” Bri could not even pretend to care.
“I do not love Lord Hookwell. I love another man, and that is the man I should marry. You have helped me to see that Hookwell will not be a good husband.”
“Humbug!”
“I beg your pardon?” Des stood, indignant at Bri’s insubordination. Her servant had never cursed at her before. “I am being very generous by not firing you and having you arrested.”
“Yes, you are a river unto your people, Lady Parade. Your husband was afraid he would not satisfy you in bed!” Bri confessed at last. “I seduced him. It was all me.”
“I know,” Des spun back around and returned to the window. “That is why he and I will never work. I need a real man.”
Bri grinded her teeth as Des kept going. “He may come out of hiding whenever he chooses and when he does I will tell him I love someone else.”
“I refuse to believe he is hiding. Tell me where he is.”
Des looked at Bri in disgust and then, as she handled all problems, Des simply walked out of the room. “He is at the pond.”
Bri loathed humoring Desdemona. But she went to the pond regardless. She could not take the chance that Orion was waiting for her there and she did not show.
But when she reached the pond outside, all she could see were the gardens and then the lily weeds. Ducks and swans recognized Bri instantly and began to float over to her. She often fed them stale bread and they thought she had a bag with her.
The earl was nowhere to be seen. She watched a train of baby ducks following their mother and she sat in the grass and covered her face.
She felt a bite to her ear and she squeaked. “Ow!”
A swan had bitten her, though it was only looking for bread, so she did not shoo it away. It was a big swan, probably male, and very brave to be so close. Bri reached out and pet it carefully before she got up and dusted herself off.
Inside she sought out her mistress and found her in the music room. All she had to do was follow the sound of an abused violin to find her.
“My lady, he is not at the pond…I would appreciate it if you were honest with me. I must have a word with him.”
“He is at the pond,” Des answered, her back to Bri.
“No, he is not. Do stop lying.”
Des let the bow off of the instrument and turned to Bri. “The pond is his new home.”
Bri raised an eyebrow and laughed. “Of course it is. Enough games.”
“There are no games. You should feed him some stale bread from the pantry.”
The heiress went back to her instrument and Bri took in her words. When their meaning settled in, she was enraged.
She was supposed to believe that this woman was a witch? This woman, who could hardly play an instrument or maintain an adult relationship was supposed to be an enchantress? And she would not even look at Bri.
Bri stormed over to Des and ripped the bow out of her hands. She threw it across the room and yelled at the woman “Where is he!”
“I already told you!” Des hissed. “Leave my presence!”
Bri backed up slowly, bristling. She rushed out of the room to avoid her temper flaring worse.
© 2010-2011 Luz Briar.

story- The Earl Swan (2)

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part 2 of 6
-2-
THE 3^rd Earl of Constance had traveled a good distance to visit his fiancé Lady Parade. They had planning to do, for their wedding was in a month’s time. For propriety’s sake, of course, Orion was given his own room.
But Bri could not find him there. She had knocked but received no answer.
She thought then of all the book-related conversations they had had in private and in letters. Orion read constantly, and he was an expert on archeology, perhaps he would be in the study doing what he did best.
Sure enough, there was a light beneath the door.
She rapped on the door gently. She smiled when a soft baritone called out, “Come in.”
She stepped in and closed the door behind her. The fading sunlight illuminated the desk and the slender earl turned in his chair.
“Ms. Salud, why hello…” he gave his wide smile. “Do have a seat.”
“My lord, I’ve just come down from talking to Lady Parade.”
“Oh? How was it?”
He had a ruler, which he was using to sketch out some kind of floor plan. Bri had seen him make many things, musically and artistically. He was, in a word, ‘brilliant.’
“She…well, sir. Permission to be frank?”
He looked up through his glasses. He took them off and reclined in his chair. “What’s wrong, dear?”
She caught herself gazing again and shook herself. “Oh… nothing. She just…I feel like I would be a bad friend if I didn’t tell you. And yet…she is my mistress. I cannot betray her confidence…she…called you a ‘sodomite!’”
“Oh?” he looked off in the distance. “She used that word?”
“Yes, and for once, I think she used a word correctly. And she’s…I’m afraid she’s not being faithful, my lord…”
Orion’s green eyes dropped to the floor. He nodded, “I know, Ms. Bri. I’ve known for some time.”
“What? But, my lord! She is doing it as revenge for something that is not even true! She thinks you slight her for the same sex! That is not fair…”
“Well, you are right. It is not, I have been faithful,” he sighed. “But…she is not…entirely wrong. Do not tell anyone, please.”
He turned to the librarian then, and she stiffened when she realized he was crying.
“Orion, eh, my lord, please…” she stood from her seat and threw her arms around him. “Do not cry…I won’t tell anyone…but is it true?”
“I’m afraid so…I am…a deviant.”
“Don’t cry, Orion. Oh, don’t cry,” she stroked his hair.
The thought was strange, she must admit to herself. Thinking of the man with other men was surreal. But then again, he was so gentle and elegant…perhaps he needed someone masculine to compliment him. Bri had never been one to dismiss unconventional things just because they were uncommon.
“So…you do not love Lady Parade?”
“Oh, I love her…why else would I be faithful when I do not want her…?” he asked, pulling away.
She had always perceived Orion as a strong individual, even somewhat icy. To see him weep was making her afraid.
Desdemona was Bri’s least favorite person in that moment. She kissed Orion’s forehead before she realized what she was doing.
He looked up at her, wide-eyed. “What should I do?”
“Confront her. She is being unfaithful. That is grounds for a split.”
“I promised my mother I would wed Lady Parade. I hope to uphold that promise.”
“But she is causing you pain, my lord. Would your mother want that?”
“No…no, she wouldn’t.”
Bri was astonished by how quickly the man was following her lead. She realized she was stroking his hair and she stopped. He frowned when she did.
“I am sorry, Bri,” he said, reaching into his pocket for a small handkerchief. He cleaned his face and whispered, “I am a wreck thinking about it…there is much expected of me…that I do not know if I will be able to do.”
Bri knew exactly what he was referring to and she nodded. “Perhaps a physician would have advice.”
He looked up at her, his eyes like harvest moons. “What? No, no! telling a doctor would be scandalous.”
“You would not have to tell him why, muffin. All you would have to say is that you cannot perform.”
Orion absorbed this advice and looked at the ceiling, “Yes…yes, I suppose that would work. It is embarrassing but not scandalous…you are a clever woman, Brigid Salud.”
“Thank you, sir. I learned to be swift when I was an orphan.”
“It’s most admirable.”
“So is being so virtuous while being engaged to an alligator,” she stopped herself, her laugh bursting forth again. “Forget I said that!”
Orion stared and then laughed easily. “It will be quite difficult to forget…I only hope the physician would not ask too many questions…”
“Perhaps if you…close your eyes and imagine it were a man…”
Orion blushed and looked out the window. He scratched his neck and mumbled, “No, no, Bri. T-t-that would not work. I’m…I don’t, well, you know, I don’t do that…”
Bri cocked her head like a cat. Then her nervous laugh returned. She put her hands to her face as she blushed painfully. Had she really just mentioned something so private? And had he really just offered her such intimate detail? So, he was not the leader in bed…
Bri was not an ignorant woman. She had read many things that most men in England would blush over. She knew of the Kuma Sutra, for example, that book which everyone seemed to fear and cherish all at once. She knew the secrets of manly love.
“Well…I’ve read before…of a way…for…”
She bit her lip and inched forehead. Orion did not pull away and she whispered in his ear. When she pulled away, his face was red again.
“Good heavens! Ms. Salud! Where did you read that?” he laughed. “I know you were married, but…”
She smiled at how shy he became. Her last husband, the awful viscount who had gone all the way to Parliament to divorce her, had nothing to do with the knowledge she had gleaned from reading.
“I’m not afraid I understand entirely…” His eyebrow cocked and she felt nervous but had to press on. It seemed he was being playful. She could not stop herself from whispering more in his ear.
To her sudden delight, he had his hand on her back then and he whispered another question in her ear.
She giggled and answered in kind.
They seemed to exchange these intimate details for an entire night, which ended with Bri on his lap, kissing him. Her hands were in his hair and he held her in place. He was the most beautiful man she’d ever seen and she was not going to let the moment pass by as if it were nothing. She was going to seize this opportunity.
Then, there in the office, she gave him a demonstration of what she had been talking about.
Earl Swan is © 2010-2011 Luz Briar. ALL rights Reserved.