Newly Wed and Alone (Chyril 23rd late ET)

[Grey Wolf]

The last of the guests have departed a few marks before, leaving Illish and Rosalie alone at last. Servants have set up a light dinner for them in their bedroom, the Baron waiting for his bride to appear, dressed in shirt and trousers, a comfortable velvet house robe resting atop it. He greeted her with a smile, glancing towards the food set for their perusal, thin slices of ham, mixed with cheese and pineapple. Small bits of bread have been piled in a bowl and a bottle of Roque Red was cooling in a bucket of ice.

The bedroom was spacious and well furnished, the canopied bed easily large enough to house a dozen people and not just two. Thick velvet curtains were hitched up on one side, held back with golden threaded ropes. The covers were pulled away to reveal silken sheets, the Baron possessing one of the few feather madrases in Citadel. More than a dozen of pillow were piled upon the bed, each adorned with a different flower upon the silken wrap. "Good evening, Baroness. Would you like some wine before we turn the lights off." They were alone in the room, faint sounds of servant cleaning the house after the wedding reaching them through thick wooden doors. A number of candles placed near the bed surrounded them with a faint scent of roses.

[Rosalie Marcada]

Rosalie took a deep breath before entering the bedchamber. In the Mouth she would have been accompanied by a group of maids, and the groom by his friends, thrown in the bed and consumation later proven by the red bedsheets. It was a small comfort to Rose that affairs in the Seven Isles were a little more relaxed. For one thing, she wouldn't have been able to produce the red sheets without injury to herself.

The newly wed Ambassador wore a burgundy nightrobe with golden beading. underneath a pristine white chemise with white lace. Her dark curls were let down. Upon seeing the bed she swallowed, for one moment not sure if she could continue. She was not physically attracted to Illish, it was true. However he promised her much in wealth and influence and that alone should suffice. As she looked upon him, Rose was reminded there was another good reason. He was kind, and gentle. What more could a Dominicus girl ask?

Love perhaps, but she had sacrificed it for her ambitions. "Good eveningtide, husband," she whispered in her hoarsh voice " Some Rogue Red would be pleasant indeed." It was a measure of his consideration for her that it was not any wine from Kislovan.. and that he had chilled the red, as her people were wont to do. Despite her fears, Rose relaxed, floating towards her husband. Yet, she avoided looking at the bed. Kaspari had not show himself after the ceremony but she was still tense.

[Grey Wolf]

The bottle was old and the glass it was made off scratched numerous times, though it was still intact. Illish reached for it and pulled the cork out with a loud POP, pouring a small measure of wine into a glass and offering it to Rosalie for tasting. For that evening he had managed to procure a bottle of Roque Red dating from 1136, the sorry state of the bottle owed to the long voyage it had taken to get to his hands. It was very strong and left a slightly bitter after-taste upon her tongue, the true flavor coming with a few flickers of delay. It was worth its weight in gold, and was probably the best wine money could buy.

Refilling her glass and pouring a good measure of wine in his own, he rose to help her sit down in a chair, his knee still a bit stiff from the injury he had suffered a few months ago. "It is quite odd you know..... To be as nervous as I am now. Like I am eighteen again." He smiled, as he sipped the wine, settling back in the chair, obviously not in any great rush. "I think the wedding went nicely. Pity Thomas could not come, but he sent word he was busy with his new business venture in Dort He promised to come back once he had everything sorted out. Mentioned a wedding gift of some sort."

[Rosalie Marcada]

Rosalie took a little sip, swirling the wine on her palette, before giving Illish a pleased nod, recognizing not only the yahren written on the bottle but the velvet taste of something very, very expensive. The merchantprincess in truth was slightly spoiled that she took such things as her due.

She sipped her wine carefully, a smile reaching not just her lips but her eyes as Illish admitted to being nervous. "Then we both can be nervous together," she quipped, though she started to relax already spying no ghostly presence. Concentrating on Illish's kind nature did much on raising interest in him, where his body was less attractive to her she found it mattered less.

"Thomas was most kind to me upon my arrival. It shall be good to see him again once he returns," Rosalie smiled.

[Grey Wolf]

Of Kaspar there was no sign, even the sounds of servants fading away into silence as they sipped the wine. Heavy footsteps sounded before the door, Deacon's voice sifting under the wood and then even he was gone, leaving Rosalie and Illish alone. "I almost tried to shield you from information now. It is hard to look past your youth and remember that you are Lady Ambassador." Taking another sip, the old man gazed through the window, moon just rising over the horizon outside. "His son Michael went insane I think. There is a rumor he killed his own brother in some mad plot to take over Thomas' business." He fell silent as his face turned darker, a look of sorrow with just a hint of fear settling on Baron's face.

[Rosalie Marcada]

"I may be the Ambassador, but I'm also your wife," Rosalie told him honestly "and as such my first loyalty is to us, our house.. our family. Such is the way of my people." Rose wondered if Carloni doubted her loyalties right now. If he was wise he would. She didn't include the Imperial Trade Guild in her loyalties but it was difficult if not impossible to exclude it entirely. The fortune of her own house depended upon it.

She frowned upon the tale of the family of Thomas "Vendetta. That is always devastating, and more so when it hits inside the family. Ambition and greed destroy what is good and proper or even wise. I have no lust for it."

Taking another sip of her wine she admitted "There is right now a lot of turmoil in World's Mouth. It is why my father could not come. He has to defend our interests and he.. ah.. has been detained because of it. Rame and me were quite worried earlier today."

[Grey Wolf]

Marcada nodded at Rosalie's words knowing her well enough to know how much family meant to her and, even though his own family did not seem as stable as hers, he would still do what he could to protect his son and daughter, and now his new wife. It was her words on the trouble in the Mouth that had him shifting in the chair, his interest obvious. "Oh, I have heard that situation has changed somewhat, but I do not have any fresh news. Your father knows that if he needs my help, all he has to do is ask? We are after all a family now." He paused, before adding in a softer tone. "But, I will not meddle unless it is requested. That would be a lack of proper manners." he drained his glass of wine, settling it upon the table, without reaching for the bottle once more.

[Rosalie Marcada]

Rosalie considered this, in full agreement on the proper way of approaching things, before adding with a wry smile "I fear my father will not be able to call upon your help, Illish, seeing as he is in Caer Doom right now. I'm assured by Carloni he will be alright and that we should under no account go home and that all will be resolved amiable. At least he will not die there, which is something they cannot be certain of on the streets. There is something going down in World's Mouth. It may be vendetta, we don't know yet."

She twirled her red wine "However, I can not risk to wait. I have sought to secure my family's interest, interfering to secure Aveas through Rame and the Lycos so that no outsider can take over the profitable coffee trade that rightfully belongs to the Espresso Syndicate. I hold some modest amount of shares, but my father is one of the major stockholders. Perhaps I'm just a suspicious lady of course, but I have reason to believe its profit may have been reason for the recent upheaval. Our new nation state is still very much in flux, so to speak." She sighed before adding with some irony "As the councillor of Aveas I think I can legitimize stepping in with some force. I have the colony's stability to think of." She talked with such casualty about treason, but then by now she was quite used to it. Perhaps all true Mouthies were.

Rosalie finished the last of her wine and put it down, giving a look at Illish "Ah, but such serious talk on our wedding night my husband. Let us retire. The morning will perhaps bring more news. That is.. unless you know of a way to assist in this endeavour that needs to be arranged this night?"

[Grey Wolf]

Illish listened to Rosalie's explanation, frowning ever so slightly as he heard of Severo's imprisonment, but she was quite right in that he was unable to do anything to save the Snake from prison. He could not risk involving the Imperial Trade Guild in personal affairs, though he was certainly not going to simply sit and watch as people threatened his wife's closest family. "I can not commit the Guild resources to such an endeavor. Not without the Duke's backing, and that I do not think I can get fast enough. What I can offer are my personal resources and though the Guild is much more powerful, I am not without the means myself."

Taking the glass from her hand Illish rose with surprising ease for a man of his years and offered his hand to Rosalie so she could rise more easily. "But, that is something that can wait for the morning. You and your brother will tell me what you need and I will see what I can provide you with. Perhaps people will learn why our marriage was such a good idea when they face our combined might." Leading her to bed, he waited for his wife to climb up into it, before moving to snuff out all the candles, leaving the room illuminated by the faint moonlight outside. His robe slipped off, and the bed swayed as the aged Baron climbed into bed next to his wife.

[Rosalie Marcada]

Rosalie gave her husband a brave smile before her attention involuntarily was drawn by the large bed. She gulped, suddenly feeling the nerves tear at her gut. It will be alright, just close your eyes and think of... She stopped her thoughts right there. No, that did not seem wise.

Pretending to be completely at ease, Rosalie floated towards the bed at Illish' arm. As each of them went to one side, she let the red robe fall down her shoulders, revealing the pristine white chemise with a touch of lace, a hint of her cleavage peeping through. Rosalie sat down on her side of the bed, drawing up the blankets. My feet are cold. Then the lights went out.

[Grey Wolf]

As Rosalie lifted the sheets, a brief burst of draft made her skin tingle with cold, raising the tiny hairs upon her skin, though the sheets helped warm her up a bit as she slid into the bed. The Baron showed not a hint of hesitation she might have expected, his body shifting closer to Rosalie's warm and soft under the twin layers of fabric that separated them. Ever so gently his hand fell upon her hip, pulling her to him, rolling her onto her side, and soon a passionate kiss touched Lady Ambassador's lips. Chaste at first, it lasted but a fraction of a flicker, and soon she felt Illish' breath on her skin, followed by the gentlest touch of his tongue upon her lips. As he kissed her, Baron's hand slid up Rose's side, wrapping around her back and pulling her to him, pressing her against his chest.

[Rosalie Marcada]

The Baron may not have felt any hesitation but that didn't mean Rosalie didn't, for he was an elderly man, rotund and all in all while somewhat charming most certainly not her image of a charming lover. Been there, done that. At least he was warm, while her body was cold, almost like a promise. A shiver ran through her body as he pulled her close, one he might have mistaken for excitement. The petite woman had to force herself not to resist, reacting somewhat stiff before forcibly relaxing her muscles. She was not in love with Illish but he was proving to be a good husband so far with the potential for so much more. He deserved this and it was what she wanted. This was the price that was to be paid. Rosalie slowly opened her lips, allowing him to slip in his tongue. Her hand rested against his chest, a little lost bird.

[Grey Wolf]

Illish had been very gentle, his hands slipping along Rosalie's skin as she returned the kiss, reached and took her tiny hand in both of his. Lifting her hand he pressed it to his cheek, the rough coating of prickly stubble upon him apparent to her soft skin. With whatever strength Marcada had left came to him then, and he leaned to her, eached out with his hands, reaching around her to hug her close while his lips dove for hers again, first a light, tender, soft kiss...a gentle brush of his lips to hers...while his hands encircled her body and held them in a grip that held some of the iron the Baron had at his disposal. He kissed her again...a strong, full kiss that found his tongue daring into her and his hands pressing her against him.

[Rosalie Marcada]

The stubble was unexpected. Somehow she hadn't noticed it on him and it was an interesting contrast to his usual refined, smooth appearance. Despite her nerves Rosalie was starting to get aroused, especially at his forcefulness. In a way it forgave her anything and everything. How could she resist? She was forced to obey.

With a soft gasp at his stubble she opened her mouth further, allowing him to kiss her, while her pert breasts pressed against his chest. "Please," she whispered coquettishly to his lips, remembering that tonight she was the virgin, quite a different virgin than she had ever been before "be careful. Don't hurt me."

[Grey Wolf]

The kiss grew softer, turning into another brush of lips upon lips, Illish's voice coming in a low, low whisper, darkness obscuring his features, his body still muscled enough. "I want to be with you, Rosalie, but I don't want you to suffer because of me." Lips brushed past hers, caressing her cheek with lightest of touches, his breath hot on her skin, pausing upon her cheekbone to whisper breathlessly. "You need not worry..............." His breath ran out, lips moving across her skin, moving closer to the earlobe as his body pushed against hers insistently, rolling to press her into the bed, heavy, yet not a burden. As the lips came closer to her ear, the voice became audible once more. ".......re. I will be ever so gentle with you tonight."

[Rosalie Marcada]

Muscled. It was interesting how that suddenly became her acute impression where before she had but noticed his ageing years and his protruding belly. Only his mind had seemed strong to her and worthy of her attention.

When he pressed her back into the mattress however she was acutely reminded of her nerves, despite the pleasant tingle that he caused in her body at the same time. Her breath quickened and not necessarily of pleasure. He will find out. He will notice. By Dominicus, can I do it? Can I sleep with a man for his fortune? Perhaps deep down she knew that what she was protesting against most was her unexpected arousal, for what did it make her? She had expected to suffer and this was all together... too pleasurable for comfort.

"Illish," she whispered.. "I.." She dare not utter she was afraid, unprepared, instead she raised her hand and caressed his face. Her tongue came out, licking her lips nervously "Illish.. I trust you." He would be gentle, that she knew, yet he could not help but destroying the last vestiges of her honour and her soul. Now she was truly damned.

[Grey Wolf]

Not a muscle in Illish's body moved as she spoke, his motions pausing a fraction of a flicker before she uttered the words, as if he felt she would do such a thing, as if he knew she would speak As she fell silent he kissed her once more, a far more reckless and passionate kiss than before, as he held her, an unfamiliar but expected pressure forming in his lap as his tongue played upon hers with anxious, desperate force. He may have been older then her, but Illish was still a man, a pressure in his loins building, his hardness pressed against her thigh as it grew, its heat obvious even through her chemise.

He shifted, his hips slipping between her thighs, pushing her legs apart, as his hand fell upon her knee, shifting upward, ever upward, reaching for her private place his fingers dancing lightly upon it, glancing teasing touches that were designed to tease her and ignite her passion. His lips slid along her cheek once more, wandering to her jaw, his arm behind her moving and rubbing around her back and holding her to him.

[Rosalie Marcada]

This was the moment of truth, and the truth was that panic gripped Rosalie. That hard big presence against her thigh. The sudden passion in Illish. She remembered how he had fumbled to kiss her breasts during the welcoming reception. How much more accomplished and forceful he was now. As his fingers move to the secret folds that were reacting to his presence despite the shout in her mind, she could not help struggle a little at his sudden eagerness. "Illish," she gasped, a shocked protest as he touched her there. It was not even half faked.

[Grey Wolf]

The shocked gasp seemed to goad the Baron to redouble his efforts, his fingers no longer teasing, exploring her wetness with almost meticulous attention. The chemise slowly inched upwards, soon Illish' fingertips caressing Rosalie's nether regions directly, the texture of his fingertips seeking to drive her wild with desire. He paused, and though it was only a moment, it lingered for a time, then his mouth played upon her neck and jaw, with reckless, anxious pleasure, moving down to the nape of her neck, where he drew upon her skin sharply, almost as if seeking to mark her as his lover.

As he did, his hand upon her wetness dared at long last to find her budding, demanding cavity, slipping a finger carefully against it and daring her to demand more, his finger rising up, a small taunt for what was to come. There came a softest bite upon the spot where her neck and jaw met, a single word whispered almost breathlessly against her skin, felt more than heard. "Divina."

[Rosalie Marcada]

His fingers were impossibly familiar for one she had never slept with before, his attitude that of a young man touching his lover, not an experienced elderly lord with a nervous young bride. The marking kiss in her neck caused a flood of memories in her mind of days spend with a shawl.... no.. impossible.

It was his whispered endearment that made the realization sink in. Rosalie stiffened in his arms, dread filling her and replacing the rising passion. "No," she gasped, pushing against his chest, "No.. no, don't do this to me, mio amore." Desperation. Somehow, no matter how impossible it seemed Kaspari had taken control of Illish. No wonder her body had recognized his touch, still yearning for him in the middle of Gravetide, the only time when she allowed herself to mourn and miss him.

"Illish," the petite woman begged in full panic as she struggled against the strong body holding her down, not sure if he was even there "Illish, please do not let him do that to me, I beg of you."

[Grey Wolf]

The moment Rosalie's hands pushed at his chest, his own gripped her wrists and pulled them above her head, pinning the there, as the man atop her, Kaspar in Illish' body kissed her passionately, muffling her cries with his lips, greedily suckling upon her lower lip. He bit her lip, sending a soft lance of pain through her skin, letting it slip away at the first gasp of cry, her wrists crossed and pinned over her head. His other hand freed, he drew his fingers down her arm, scratching it faintly, hips pinning her to bed, as his knees pushed her thighs apart. Illish if he was even there, was helpless to stop Kaspar's desire, fingers reaching her neck and lightly traveling over Rose's throat, moving up to cover her mouth, stifling any cries under it, as a hot trail of kisses moved past her chin, and down towards her throat.

[Rosalie Marcada]

Terror paralysed her for a moment as she stared up in the darkness, feeling more than seeing Kaspar, caressing her in a mockery of their previous experiences, his presence not loving, only desperate, and with an edge that more than hinted at cruelty yet to come. Was this then the punishment of Dominicus for her sins? Was she going to die by her dead lovers hands?

Yet something in her resisted. She was not one to give up, not even under the direst circumstances. This was not how she planned to die. The dead returning to haunt her was just.. impolite! With renewed fury Rosalie struggled, trying to bring up her knee to hit Illish/Kaspar were it hurt, and biting his lip as he kissed her, trying to bite his fingers that kept any sounds from escaping as she tried to scream and scream hard. So angry was she that tears of fright and frustration rolled down her cheeks, always the last tactic of a merchantprincess in need.

[Grey Wolf]

It had worked. With all the struggling and wriggling, Rosalie managed to bring her knee and strike Illish hard in the stomach, his head burying in her bosom, as he grunted in pain. Fingers grew lax for just a flicker, her teeth sinking into his skin, salty taste of blood upon her tongue and her lips were free. Scream rippled into the night, turning into a gurgle, as Illish released her hands and closed both hands around Rosalie's throat.

He squeezed, fingers digging into her soft skin, her larynx threatening to break and collapse onto itself. Lights danced before Rosalie's eyes, as her husband's eyes lit from within, angry red glow illuminating them. As flickers passed, her lungs began to burn, the lack of air threatening to rob her of all strength in her limbs. It would not take more than a burn for her to simply relax and die under him, Kaspar's revenge on her complete.

[Rosalie Marcada]

In the flickers that Illish/Kaspar slumped Rosalie tried to turn away and roll of the bed, while she screamed. Alas, it was not to be, within mere flickers his hands both locked around her throat.

Instincts were taking over. Rosalie knew she was fighting for her life. As her life flashed by, one image stuck. She but 9 yahren old, in breeches and a shirt, mock fighting her much older brother, who laughed indulgently as she failed to even hit him, giving her instruction, while teasing her mercilessly. Oh, how she loved Ramius. It was beyond anything she ever felt for anybody else. Ramius !

As both hands locked around her throat, that left her own hands suddenly free, and she threw them forward, not even wasting time with scratching. Both of her thumbs went to his eyes, poking hard. She only needed to distract him so she could wriggling out from under him and scramble to the door, fleeing for freedom.

[Grey Wolf]

Her fingers did not find Illish' eyes itself, his eyelids closing a moment before the nail gouged them out, chill passing across her skin as his head was pushed back, a bellow of pain issued from Baron's lips. The hands still, gripped, twisting slightly, fingers scratching the skin of her neck, as Kaspar's face emerged from Illish's body. She pushed the man's head back, but the ghost's head remained where it had been before, sending chill and goose bumps along her skin, the feeling similar to immersing hands into ice-cold water.

It was not her strength that pushed the Baron away, his face instead twisting into a mask of concentration, fingers peeling away from her neck one by one. "Noooooooooooooooo!" Kaspar wailed in the darkness, as Baron all but jumped away, the door to the room bursting open, Deacon standing in the frame, shirt hastily tucked into trousers, holding a lamp. Illish lay unconscious, his head having stuck the bed-post as he jumped away, Kaspar's ethererial form floating towards the ceiling, flying around the bed in swift, angry circles. "I'll get you, vacca. You killed me, brutta." A maid appeared in the door frame next to Deacon who stood slack-jawed, as the girl rushed in. She could not have been older than fifteen or sixteen yahren, rushing to Rosalie's side and cradling her head in her lap. "Mistress, are you alright?" The room swam before Rosalie's eyes, her throat hurting with each breath she took.