Chapter 1 The Maiden’s Blood
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In the east wing of Clarke Estate, the space beside the carved four-poster bed was littered with scattered garments.
Brielle Whitmore pushed herself up, her gaze falling upon the disheveled linens. Her face went deathly pale.
The morning sun streamed in, cruelly illuminating the stain of her maiden’s blood upon the sheets. The memory of the five or six men who had forced their way into the bridal chamber the previous night came crashing back, a wave of shame and degradation threatening to drown her.
Tears of humiliation welled in her eyes and spilled over
“What are you weeping for?” A voice, cold and resonant, came from across the room. “You finally schemed your way into the Clarke family. You ought to be pleased.”
A shiver raced down Brielle’s spine. She turned, startled
There, seated upright in a high-backed chair, was a man whose expression was as stern and unyielding as carved stone. His icy, indifferent gaze fell upon her like shards of glass, cutting her to the quick.
A dreadful realization exploded in her mind, tightening her chest. “My lord… you were here? All this time?” The man’s tone was glacial. “It is our wedding day. Where else should I have been?”
His words struck her like a physical blow. Her blood seemed to freeze in her veins.
The memory of those rough-handed men, the sight of her clothes strewn across the floor… and this man, her husband who should have shared their wedding night, had simply sat there and watched it all unfold…
“Why?” she screamed, her voice raw with hysteria, tears streaming unchecked down her face. “Do you hate me so very much?”
The man she had loved most in this world had allowed servants to violate her purity, to disgrace her body and her name on the very night they were wed.
Her heart felt as though it were being ripped asunder. She could scarcely draw breath.
She had adored him since they were children. Back then, the King’s grandmother herself had called them a golden pair, a perfect match made in heaven, and had even jested about betrothing them one day.
Though it was only a casual remark, she had clung to it, cherished it.
But a prolonged illness at thirteen had caused her to swell in size, her comely features lost beneath layers of flesh. After that, she knew only cold glances and whispered mockery. Only his eyes, when they briefly met hers, seemed unchanged. She vowed then she would marry no one but him.
She waited, year after year, only to receive the devastating news of his formal betrothal to her half-sister, Donna Whitmore.
The thought of becoming a stranger to him was unbearable. So when Donna suggested-no, insisted-that Brielle take her place in the marriage procession, she had agreed without hesitation. She believed that once she was his wife, she could, in time, win his affection.
But the wedding night she had dreamt of had twisted into a nightmare of exquisite humiliation.
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Chapter 1 The Maiden’s Blood
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Hearing her broken question, Daniel Clarke let out a sof, derisive sound. He rose and walked toward her with deliberate slowness, looking down at where she sat huddled.
“Hate?” he said, his voice low and venomous. “You flatter yourself. I feel nothing for you but contempt. You sicken me.”
A spy, daring to openly usurp the bride’s position and force herself upon him as his wife? And she had the audacity to plot against him?
Brielle’s voice was hoarse with despair. “So… you had them ruin me. My virtue, my honor…”
She clutched desperately at the sleeve of his doublet, sobs wrenching from her throat. “If I… if I were not so grotesque… would you have found even a shred of regard for me?”
Her frenzied appearance only deepened Daniel’s disgust. A cold light flickered in the depths of his eyes. He seized her chin, his grip hard enough to bruise the bone “Even if you possessed the beauty of Helen of Troy,” he bit out, each word precise and brutal, “you would still turn my stomach.”
With that, he shoved her away, a gesture devoid of all gentleness.
Brielle fell forward onto the bed, the blanket slipping to reveal the livid bruises that marred her skin. His cold gaze swept over them briefly, and the humiliation burned hotter than any physical pain.
Daniel turned on his heel and left, the heavy door closing with a definitive thud behind him.
Watching him go, a final, absolute despair filled Brielle. She stared blankly at the vacant doorway, a broken whisper escaping her lips. “I… I know what I did was wrong…”
The man paused for the briefest instant outside the door, then continued on his way without a backward glance.
He had worked tirelessly, finally securing the King’s decree for his marriage to Donna, only to have it all undone by this vile, scheming creature.
The thought darkened his eyes further. His hands clenched into fists at his sides.
A short time later, two maids entered, carrying ewers of water for washing. Brielle shrank back into the corner of the bed, clutching the thin coverlet to her chest, but she could not hide the evidence of the night’s violation littering the floor.
Their poorly concealed stares and the silent judgment in their eyes made her want to vanish.
Soon, from the courtyard just beyond her window, the maids’ voices carried, hushed but unmistakable.
“Seeing her in the flesh is worse than the tales. She’s as large as a broodmare! How did she ever manage to pass for Ms. Donna Whitmore last eve? Donna is slender as a reed. Did no one in the wedding party notice?”
“No one knows how she slipped into the manor. She struck Ms. Donna Whitmore senseless and installed herself in the bridal chamber. His lordship had taken to much wine at the feast and retired there. She nearly had her way! Thank the heavens he came to his senses in time, or that… that creature would have defiled him.”
“Sweet mercy, the sheer shamelessness of it! A barnyard sow dreaming of a crown princel”
If even the serving girls thought so, then in Daniel’s heart… he must loathe her utterly.
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Chapter 10
I had saved the Chloe in the book.
09:50 Thu, May 7 0
Chapter 1 The Maiden’s Blood
No, she corrected herself bitterly. She was not even worthy of his loathing.
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Brielle gripped the coverlet until her knuckles turned white, her face as pale as ash. Humiliation and heartbreak merged into a torrent that finally broke through the last of her defenses. Sobs racked her frame.
“If there is a next life,” she whispered into the empty, accusing room, “I will never make you despise me again…”
The two maids, who had not yet left the courtyard, were startled by a loud crash from within the chamber- the sound of the heavy oak wardrobe mirror shattering They exchanged a fearful glance and rushed back inside.
A moment later, a scream pierced the morning air. “Help! Someone fetch the physician! The lady-she has taken her own life!”
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Fate Binds Me to Lord Clarke
