The Passion of Darius

Oh, madam! You are hurt and bleeding. We must get you upstairs immediately. Mr. Rourke will want the doctor called. Martha!” Mrs. West was clearly horrified at the sight of her mistress.

“No. I am fine, Mrs. West. Please do not make a fuss. I have merely slipped and scratched my hands. It is mostly water on me. I need a bath and to change my clothes, that is all.”

“Your hands need attending to, madam,” Mrs. West clucked nervously.

“Could you see to them for me? I really do not see the need to call out the doctor. I don’t wish to upset my husband.” Marianne pleaded with the housekeeper. “Please, Mrs. West?”

Mrs. West eyed her guardedly. “My dear, if you are injured or at risk to danger, he will be upset regardless.”

The housekeeper looked her over some more before softening her harsh frown. “There, there, Mrs. Rourke, let’s have Martha get a bath started for you, and I’ll tend to those scratches, hmmm?”

The cuts stung painfully under Mrs. West’s ministrations, but that was nothing compared to the pain she would feel once Darius knew what she had done.

“Must you tell him, Mrs. West? He’ll be so displeased. I hate to burden him with this.”

“I think, my dear, you must ask yourself why he would be so displeased,” Mrs. West said gently. “He adores you, and you should not take such risks, in your condition.” She nodded knowingly. “I am right, am I not?”

“I believe so.” Marianne felt a kind of relief at her secret being exposed.

“Then you will have to tell him, madam.”

“I know I must. I will tell him myself.” She prepared herself for what she knew she must say to him.

“Tell me what?” Darius asked, walking in through the doorway. The color drained out of his face as soon as he got a good look at her, though. “What on earth has happened to you, Marianne?”

“Oh, Darius, I slipped and fell while walking, but it is nothing—just some scratches to my hands. I am fine.” She smiled as calmly as she could muster.

He eyed her soaked and filthy dress before fixing them onto her. “Where did you fall as you walked?” His voice was steely and cold.

Marianne winced before answering in a dreaded whisper, “The headland at the shore.”

His eyes narrowed, flashing through the slits. His jaw tightened up, but to his credit, he maintained composure. “I’ll return when you have been put to rights and are fit to receive me—your husband.”

Darius turned from her then and directed his next comment to the housekeeper. “Mrs. West, please inform me at such time my lady wife is restored to her former self so that I might attend her. It appears she has something to tell me.”

He stalked out of the room without so much as a glance in her direction.

Marianne took in a deep breath, realizing she had been holding it while he was in the room. She could still smell the spice of his cologne after he’d gone.

Her blue shawl draped over a dressing gown, Marianne waited for Darius. As she sat brushing her hair, her hands wouldn’t stop trembling and she felt sick to her stomach. Darius was so very angry with her. The look on his face. He’d been stricken at the sight of her. She felt chilled to the bone, and her hands ached badly. The reality of what she had done, of what had nearly happened to her, was sobering.

She wanted to please him and be a good wife, but she was failing miserably and had a reckoning coming, she knew. Darius was very good to her, always attentive and considerate, so why then was she compelled to disobey his wishes? That was an easy answer. She didn’t deserve all that he gave to her, or the love that he showered upon her. But she wanted to deserve his love. She just didn’t know how to begin. Marianne needed to face the truth that she hadn’t been honest for a long time, hiding in a world of regret and lost potential.

Darius had changed her, though. Made her feel emotions she couldn’t have dreamed she would ever feel again. Made her love… again. Made her love him. She’d fallen in love with her husband, and knew she must tell him everything. It was his right to know about Jonathan, but she was afraid, because of what Darius would think of her once he knew the truth.

Marianne was still sitting in the same spot nearly an hour later when Darius entered her room quietly, walking up behind her as she sat motionless at her dressing table.

The temperature seemed to drop by degrees. He was hard and rigid, like he might want to hit something. She looked up at him through her dressing mirror. They stared at each other for what seemed like an age before he spoke sharply, arms folded. “You have something to tell me, Marianne? Please, I await to hear it.”

His icy contempt crushed her. She couldn’t hold back the tremors. “You are displeased with me, Darius, I know.” She turned in the chair toward him, tentatively reaching out to touch his arm.

His dark eyes blazed down on her so coldly she shrank back and lowered her eyes. He did not like that.

“Oh no, you don’t.” He snapped. “You will face me, not shrink away like I’m some monster,” he spat, waiting for her to lift her face to him.

God, his eyes were wild, so dark and unbound, but there was something else, too. She saw pain in them. “Darius, you are not a monster, but I see I have made you very angry.” She had hurt him. And for that she felt even worse. “Listen to what I have to—”

“I am indeed, angry, Marianne. You are aware of my wishes, and yet you defy me. You must not go alone. It is too dangerous. You promised me and then broke your promise. Betrayal… Is that what I get with you? I have to be able to trust you, Marianne. As my wife there must be trust between us.” He scrubbed his face in frustration.

“Oh, Darius, I trust you. I would never betray you. I just go there to reflect. That is all.” She stood and bowed her head, moving ever closer to him.

Letting out an exasperated sigh, he did not offer consolation. “Reflect,” he scoffed. “You risk your safety outrageously. Perched upon the edge of the jetty as you stand above the rough water? Why, a large wave could come and sweep you out to sea in the blink of an eye. From what I can deduce, one nearly did.”

“It’s what I deserve, really.” She mumbled the words very softly, but even so he heard, and he did not like what she’d said.

“What?” he bellowed. “That is a gross mistruth. Marianne!”

Grabbing her by the shoulders, he shook her hard before crushing her to him in a desperate embrace. “Don’t ever say such a thing again. I find it obscene. You are more precious to me than anything.” She could feel him trembling as he clutched her and then moved her roughly to the bed.

He pushed and down she went onto the mattress, the welcoming softness in sharp contrast with his hard touch. “You are mine,” he barked, pointing, his eyes devouring her from the side of the bed where he stood. “Open your gown. Show yourself to me.” He looked positively ragged.

“All right, Darius,” she said, keeping her eyes on his blistering ones. Slowly, she began to untie her dressing gown, hoping her acquiescence might calm him a little. It didn’t. He wasn’t inclined to wait and tore it open himself after dropping to the bed with a hiss. The fine French silk fell away at such brutal treatment, exposing all of her to his ravenous gaze.

“These are mine.” Cupping her breasts, he dipped his head to cover first one and then the other, swirling over her nipples with his tongue before biting in possession. The bites were a sweet pain that he quickly soothed by following up with soft sucks and tiny licks. “Mine,” he murmured between breasts, his lips lingering over her pounding heart.

“Yes,” she moaned, arching into his mouth for more of his ragged attentions.

He swept his mouth down, down, down, over ribs and belly and to her cunny. Forceful hands moved quickly to split her thighs, and then he just hovered, motionless, staring at her, almost like he was seeing her sex for the first time. And then she felt his lips come down on her, claiming the burning slit with his tongue. Spearing into her, he teased her clit relentlessly until she felt a possessive but gentle bite there as well. “This is mine, Marianne.”

“Yes.”

Grazing teeth upon the sensitive nub of nerves sent her to dizzying heights. She bucked against the onslaught of his tongue and teeth and lips, a writhing mass of tension and building need. No matter how angry he might be, he was still good to her like this. And she was more than willing to accept the sex, the fucking, the carnality—this she could accept without censure. Accepting his love was harder on her.

She didn’t know how he sprung his cock while he was devouring her flesh, but he did somehow. And when he slid into her, hot and hard, the cry she gave was one of pure abandon. Marianne welcomed his driving cock inside her. He completed her, filled her, and satisfied her in a way she now understood, but had been wary of accepting. It didn’t take long for his fierce thrusting to push her over the edge and into that abyss of sweet oblivion.

“Yes, Darius… yesssss.”

As he rocked into her feverishly, she sought as much of him as she could possibly get inside her, gripping his hips with her heels, digging in, pressing him closer, further, deeper.

“When my cock is buried in your sweet quim where it’s meant to be. Mine. Only—for—me.” He fucked into her hard, each stroke a message of dominion over her.

“I know, Darius, I give myself… to you.” Marianne welcomed every bit of him in this way. Every stroke, every lick, every suck, every bite, every kiss. And she’d gladly take it all from him.

Her words of surrender caused him to erupt violently, coming so hard there was pain through his cock when the semen shot up. On and on it surged—his ejaculating. Jets of spunk burst out of him and into her. He marked her body with his very essence. The most primal evidence of claim on a woman, by a man.

“Never risk yourself again. Never again, Marianne,” he begged, collapsing in a loose grip against her. Her solemn eyes met his as he held her face close. “I cannot lose you.” Whispering in desperation, he closed his eyes. “Please, Marianne, I know I cannot bear it if I were to lose you.”

They lay entangled and panting, his body clothed and hers naked, the musky scents of their sex hovering.

“You won’t,” she said softly.

He realized she was just trying to reassure him though. He stayed quiet, unable to vocalize, vulnerable at the thought of what had nearly happened to her, worried she might do it again, and feeling helpless to prevent it.

“I was careless and distracted. I’ll never do it again, go alone to the sea. I am so very sorry. Please forgive me, Darius?”

“Forgive you?” He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “I love… I love you. Can’t you understand? I love you, Marianne.” Anguish of the heart compressed painfully inside his chest.

She looked up into his eyes, hers full of tears, and touched his face gently. “I know you do, Darius… and I think that you shouldn’t—”

He felt excruciatingly hurt at her words, but sacrificed himself anyway. “Oh, mia cara, how could I not love you?” Her eyes glimmered at him. “You are everything I could ever want, or ever need to make my life complete.” He whispered the rest. “Marianne, I think, have always thought, and will always know, that you are someone very perfect.”

Burying her face into his chest, she rocked back and forth. “Darius, I am not—”

“I know you cannot love me back. I know, Marianne. I am well aware of what I have done to you.”

An expression of confusion crossed her features. “I was going to say, ‘I am not perfect.’ You think me perfect when I am not, Darius. Why do you always say such to me? And what is it that you believe you have done to me anyway?” She shook her head at him in question.

“I have done you wrong, Marianne. I wanted you, for so long. In my bed. To possess you. To have you. I wanted your body and your soul, so it has been for a very long time. You granted my greatest wishes when you married me and put all of that within my grasp. You gave all of yourself so freely. But I found I wanted more. More than I know you can give to me.”

“What do you want, Darius?”

“Something you do not have for me, but for another you have lost.”

“Love? You really want my love? Why do you not tell me to say it to you? I have waited for you to tell me to say the words, but you do not.”

She paused, just looking and waiting for him, her blue eyes blazing.

It made him wary. He wasn’t going to direct her on this. No. He would not. There would be no more telling her what to say, either. It hurt to do that now. He’d gambled with her and lost.

“Can you not tell me to say, ‘I love you?’” she asked. “I will give you that. I want to.”

“Not this time, dear one. Not this time.”

Tears spilled down her face. “Darius?”

“No!” he shouted. “I will not do that to you.”

“Do what? What have you done to me? I don’t understand you,” she wailed.

“Shhh.” He stroked her face, getting close up to her. “Oh, cara, it is all my fault. I coerced you—gave you no real choice in marrying me. I owned all the debt from your father for months. I planned for his eventual ruin. I called it in when you turned me down the first time. Knowing that you would be mine and I would have you finally, I did not care about the deception. Before I even knew what I was about, you had ensnared my heart in totality. I found myself in love with a woman who waited for me to tell her what to do, to say, to feel, and it quickly grew to be most unsatisfying… for my heart. I could tell you to say that you loved me, but I learned you cannot dominate a heart, Marianne. Those three words must be given freely to have meaning.” He felt his bottom lip begin to tremble. “I am sorry for what I have done, but never sorry for loving you. Marianne, in my heart, you are master, and I am servant.” He kissed her on the forehead with one gentle kiss.

She was quiet a long time before she spoke, the silence engulfing them like a cloak. “I have to tell you something, Darius. The reason I am unworthy… the reason I am… as I am.”

“Unworthy?” How could she believe herself unworthy? “No, Marianne, please don’t say that—”

“Darius, do you know why? Why I wanted your direction?”

“No, cara, I don’t. I just sensed it from you. And being so attracted, I was determined to have you for myself. I had to be the one to give you what you needed, and I was so desperate to win you, I would have done anything. Your father’s decline made it very easy for me, too easy, I know.”

He knew what he must ask. And he was afraid of her answer. And his heart hurt terribly. Still, he had to know. “Marianne, are you the way you are because of… Jonathan?”

Marianne gasped when the name crossed his lips. “Yes… it is because of him. He is the reason.” She got quiet again, the silence hanging, waiting for words.

Finally, she started to tell her story. “Jonathan… I failed him. I am responsible. I as good as killed him. His death is on me, and I confess it is a struggle. ’Tis why I walk on the headland sometimes, to remember him and beg his forgiveness. For my mistake.”

“Mistake?”

“Oh yes, the worst kind of error. My brother died because of me. Because of a decision I made. I was at fault, and he died for it. My whole family followed him… really.”

“Brother? Jonathan was your brother?” Darius thought his heart might leap out of his chest. Brother… He was her brother…

She nodded in reflection. “My baby brother. He was so beautiful.” She looked weary and very sad.

“I had no idea,” he breathed. “Darling, you are tired and have been through a frightening ordeal.” He kissed her ravaged hands reverently. “Your poor hands. Thank God they were able to pull you up. Precious, precious hands.” Drawing her into his arms, he found her shawl and covered her up with it. He savored the warmth of her body and the knowledge that she was safe with him now, that he had not lost her today.

Thank you, dear God.

“Marianne, will you tell me about Jonathan? I would like to know, if you can bear to speak of him.”