A Lady or a Cock Whore? Ch. 03

He smiled, and she suddenly wondered if he had purposely provoked her.

Why must my feelings always be so plainly written on my face? And why can't I keep my mouth shut for five minutes?? she thought, cursing her lack of self-control.

"As an educated man, let me enlighten you as to our nature... some may wish for a woman who is blunt, though they are few and far between, and even they desire a wife who also recognizes that honesty is a danger to one in such an environment as this." Eric spoke lightly and almost carelessly, but she felt the underlying gravity of his warning and nodded. They finished their dance in silence, and with a bow he departed.

Arya had moved barely three steps away before she was approached by another young man. He bowed with a flourish.

"Lady Arya, your beauty and grace have caught my eye and I would gladly dance the next set with you."

Arya curtsied in the proper fashion, and took his hand. She forced herself not to stare at Lord Eric's back as he disappeared into the crowd.

She danced with a range of different men throughout the night, finding fault with all of them. The only men her age who she had known in her lifetime intimately were her brothers, and compared to their easy manners and openness she felt only disdain for the affected, insipid presentation of these strangers. She felt keenly that they thought of her as no more than a trophy to parade around, and that by dancing with her they were bestowing a great honor upon her.

Arya's mood continued to devolve as the night wore on, and she was soon wishing for the quiet solitude of home. The noise and the constant interactions with strangers was overwhelming, and she was feeling emotionally drained by the constantly cheerful yet lifeless posture she had to assume.

She managed to spend a few minutes alone, sitting with her uncle in an out of the way place as she caught her breath. Her thoughts drifted to Lord Eric and she realized now how different he had been. She hadn't realized it until afterwards and had something to compare him to, and she wished that she had conducted herself differently. There was an intensity and real intelligence in him that was novel, refreshing, and she was disappointed when he did not request another dance.

Arya wished that she could have met Lord Eric outside of court, somewhere where they could have sat and talked. She was curious about him, and wished to know him better. But she knew that unless he approached her again, she have no way to interact with him again.

With a sigh, she stood up as another young gentleman asked her pompously for a dance, and led her away.

After a long and frustrating night, she fell into her bed with an unladylike flop and sighed. She began to dread the coming weeks, knowing she would have to repeat this experience many more times, as well as attend the more intimate dinners and outings; If she was "lucky" enough to be invited, that is. She curled up in a ball, feeling melancholy and wishing for home.

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Arya hoped to see Lord Eric again, but he was absent from the two balls and three dinners she had attended since that night. She did not ask anyone about his whereabouts for fear of seeming too forward; She could not risk exposing even the smallest bit of vulnerability, and admitting to her interest in a particular man could easily be used against her. If any of her teacher's lessons had proved to be true, it was the fact that many of the women Arya found herself in company with were ruthless in their censure, attacking the clothes, manners, and, most severely, the promiscuity of the other women in their social class. She saw firsthand how the gossip of her peers, as well as their overbearing mothers, could ruin a woman's reputation and leave her a spinster. She had discovered this that first night at court, and since then Arya was even more careful to mask any emotion, and to behave in the most correct manner she could.

She longed for a friend, for someone to just have a conversation with who wasn't interested in bringing down others or talking about the latest fashions. She was excited, then, when she saw Lord Eric among a group of men at a dinner party one particular evening. He stood out, with his dark hair brushing his shoulders and his confident, yet relaxed stride. He was not particularly tall, but carried himself so proudly and confidently that he looked far above his actual height. And what made that attitude so appealing to Arya. was the fact that his confidence and pride held none of the haughty arrogance displayed by so many of his peers. It was clear that Eric simply knew who he was, and was not afraid to embody it.

She peered furtively at him from a distance for a while as she sipped on a drink. Finally, her aunt urged her to move to the next room and Arya's heart sped up, knowing that he would inevitably become aware of her presence. Sure enough, Eric's eyes flickered over to Arya as soon as she entered the room he was in. Their gaze met for a half a second before he turned back to his companions. In that one moment Arya felt anxiety, lust, and excitement flood through her all at once, and it took her breath away.

She was glad, then, that he had turned away from her. Surely he would have known what she was feeling, and while that thought excited her in some strange, perverted way, it also made her extremely self-conscious.

Her aunt motioned Arya towards the other young nobles, expressing an interest in joining a card game nearby. Arya recognized an acquaintance of hers at a different table and walked over to say hello. The woman turned and smiled at Arya, embracing her with false affection.

"Arya, my dear!" Lady Isabella cried, "It is so wonderful of you to join us. You look lovely, even if your earrings don't quite match your dress," she simpered, her smooth voice making the words seem innocent.

"Thank you Isabella, you are too kind. And you look as beautiful as you always do, of course." Arya replied blandly. Isabella's eyes narrowed, looking for an insult in Arya's words. Unable to find one she sniffed and turned back to her other companion.

Arya spent a half hour with the women, talking and engaging in their conversation, avoiding joining in their cruel jokes as best she could. She had no taste for their predatory conversation, but knew better than to express her disapproval of it.

Her eyes flickered constantly towards Lord Eric, trying to catch him looking at her again. He only did once, as far as she could tell, and she looked away instantly when he caught her staring. She looked up again after a moment, to see him watching her with an amused expression. She blushed and kept her eyes strictly on her companions for several minutes thereafter.

She was ignoring him so studiously, that she was completely surprised to turn and find him next to her.

"Lady Isabella, Lady Chantal, Lady Arya," he greeted them, his eyes piercing Arya's as he uttered her name.

"My Lord, what a pleasure to see you here tonight," Lady Isabella replied. "What brings you here? I heard you were in the country these past few weeks?"

"The pleasure of your company, of course."

Lady Isabella and Chantal tittered and waved their fans. Arya simply raised an eyebrow.

"I was wondering if you would like to join me this Saturday for a picnic?" he continued.

"A picnic?" Lady Isabella queried. "I am not sure," she responded indifferently, inspecting her nails. "I suppose I might be free. I will send a man around on Friday to let you know my availability."

"Well I will be there," Lady Chantal threw in, eying him like a prime piece of meat. She knew a catch when she saw one and was not as skilled in hiding her interest as her friend Isabella was. "I shall ask my cook to make some of those divine cookies you like so much."

Eric nodded his thanks and she beamed, waving her fan flirtatiously as she cast her eyes down in what she thought was a demure expression. To Eric, it just looked fake. Fake and vapid,he thought to himself. And she may be hungry for me, but not in the way I want a woman to be.

His eyes flickered unconsciously to the third lady as the thought crossed his mind, taking in her flawless skin and chestnut hair, remembering her intriguing words at their last meeting.

The young woman met his gaze boldly, and Eric saw a flicker of the hunger he was searching for.

But Arya chose not to speak, unsure if she knew him well enough to assume that she was invited. She still felt like an outsider, especially when in the company of so many individuals who had grown up together.

"You are invited as well, my lady," Eric added as he glanced her way. His face betrayed none of the hope he felt as he added, "You are not one of the members of our established party, but I am always happy for such a... novel addition to join us at such gatherings."

Lady Isabella's eyes searched his face, trying to construe his meaning.

"I would be happy to join you, as long as the weather doesn't turn beastly," she responded mildly, her face equally unreadable.

Eric repressed a grin at her cheeky reference to their prior conversation. He excused himself, saying, "Till Saturday, then, ladies."

"Well, that was quite unexpected," Lady Isabella commented,

"Why?" Arya queried.

"Don't play stupid, Arya," Lady Isabella snapped impatiently. "He is not so far above myself but the two of you... well, you should feel quite distinguished that he singled you out."

Lady Chantal protested, and they began to quarrel. Arya said nothing, repressing the urge to roll her eyes.

The three young ladies were soon interrupted by another gentleman, a man that Arya recognized from previous events. Lord Edgar, she thought to herself, placing a name to the face. It wasn't difficult, for it was an unpleasant face. He had a large nose and full lips, but small, beady eyes and greasy hair. And something about the way he looked at them made her feel distinctly uncomfortable. She had caught him looking at her several times throughout the evening, and his response to her confused look had been to leer at her with a crooked smile. She felt instantly on edge as he singled her out, asking her to accompany him to the balcony outside.

Arya glanced at Lady Isabella in supplication, saying "But dear Isabella wasn't feeling well, I think I should stay with her and make sure she is alright."

Lady Chantal looked at Arya in confusion, but Lady Isabella smiled knowingly.

"No, no, dear," Lady Isabella replied silkily, "I am quite well now, you should go."

"Are you sure?" Arya asked, a bit desperate. "I do not think I should leave you." She gave Lady Isabella a pleading look, trying to convey her dismay at the thought of being alone with this man.

The cruel young woman simply looked at Arya with a raised eyebrow and slight smirk. "No, I assure you, I am well. Go enjoy yourself, Lady Arya. I know you had been talking about getting a bit of air anyway."

Arya glared at her, but had no choice except but to take the man's arm. She could hear Lady Isabella snicker and begin to whisper to Lady Chantal as the two walked towards the french doors which led outside to a grand balcony.

Lord Edgar led her outside with a grip on her arm that was too tight, unaware of Eric's keen gaze following them. The door closed and Arya pulled herself away nervously, anxious as she felt his reluctance to release her. Thankfully he did and she took a few steps back. He made no move to stop her, simply leaning against the banister and sipping his wine casually as his eyes roved over her suggestively. Even in the dim light she could see his pupils dilate as he stared at her. It reminded her of the look a cat has just before it pounces.

Arya cleared her throat, commenting nervously, "It is a lovely night, is it not?"

The young lord did not reply. He just looked at her with an enigmatic smile.

She tried again, growing more nervous. "May I have some wine?" she asked, hoping to send him off for a moment to compose herself.

His smile widened. "Of course." He walked towards her, holding out his cup.

She shook her head in surprise, "I meant would you be so kind as to fetch me a glass?" She was shocked when he shook his head; It was a normal request - far more standard than him offering to share his own drink with her. She had never even heard of such a thing.

"Surely you would not be so rude as to refuse my offering?" he challenged, bringing the glass almost to her lips, knowing full well she could not say no no matter how strange his behavior was.

Arya hesitantly took the cup, ignoring the touch of his fingers against hers. She took a small sip, and then moved to hand it back to him. He was standing very near, now, so close she could feel the heat radiating off of him in the cool night air.

As he took the glass back it "slipped" from his grasp and spilled onto her chest. Arya cried out and stepped back, grimacing as the wine dripped down the front of her dress, forming a trail between her breasts.

"Oh, I am so sorry, my lady," he cried with false sincerity. "Here, let me help you clean it up." He produced a handkerchief from his pocket and began daubing at the spilled wine, his hands dipping into her cleavage. She pushed him away, mortified.

"Please, I will go to the washroom and clean it up, thank you."

"No, no, we must clean it before the wine stains your beautiful clothes. Hold still," he commanded, his voice growing rough and slightly ragged. He gripped her arms roughly and it was all Arya could do not to scream as he lowered his head and licked the wine off of her exposed cleavage, knowing that in this shadowed area of the balcony his offense would go unnoticed by those inside.

Arya retreated, holding her hands before her in supplication.

"Please, this is indecent!" she cried.

"Nonsense," he replied harshly. He grasped her by the shoulders and pulled her towards him, wrapping one arm around her waist and using the other to hold her head back as he began to lap at her wine-soaked skin once more. The feeling of his hand on her throat, forcing her head back so that he could lick and suck on her skin made Arya nauseated and she struggled in vain, trying not to arouse the notice of anyone inside by protesting too loudly. She lost all hope of a quiet extraction as he began kneading her breasts, his face between them as he licked and bit them with increasing urgency.

She heard footsteps and, in a blind panic, instinctively grabbed a potted plant behind her and smashed it against the side of Lord Edgar's head.

She looked down in shock to see that he had crumpled to the floor, stunned by the blow. She put her hands over her mouth, thinking that her situation couldn't get any worse.

She groaned as Lord Eric walked into view, knowing it definitely could get worse.

He stopped short when he saw her, his face conflicted. She stood in silence, her hair disheveled, wine staining her bosom, at her feet a broken vase and an unconscious man. She looked up at him like a caged animal, fearful, feral, and beautiful.

She thought he was about to begin shouting at her, his face red with what she could only assume was rage. Suddenly he began to laugh, unable to control himself, and she realized that he had been trying to hold in amusement, not anger. He couldn't seem to stop.

"Oh lord," he finally said, wiping tears from his eyes. "You have no idea how long I have wanted to do that to him myself, and to be beaten to it by a girl."

She straightened from her crouch as she realized that Eric meant her no harm, her pride rising as his laughter set off an irrational anger in her. She looked down in dismay at the mess Lord Edgar had made of her dress, unable to look at Eric as he continued to chuckle sporadically. She knew that she was too angry to be civil, and she also knew that right now she desperately needed his help.

After a moment Eric was finally quiet, but Arya still didn't dare to look at him. She was trying to hold back tears, now, wringing the fabric of her skirt in her hands as she tried to think of what to do next.

She held her breath as she felt his hand sweep her hair off her shoulder, startled when his fingers pulled her gown back into place before slowly moving down her arms. She slapped his hands away, unable to bear being touched. She glared at him, about to hiss an insult or warning, she didn't know what, but stilled when she realized how close he was.

Her eyes flitted unconsciously to his lips and back.

Eric's gaze darkened and she backed up a step, frightened.

She was surprised when he, too, backed away, running a hand through his hair and letting out a deep breath. When he turned back to Arya his expression had cleared.

"Well," Lord Eric said smartly, "I suppose we must do something about him." He gestured towards the immobile Lord Edgar and Arya flushed, realizing that she had completely forgotten about the young man on the floor.

"You aren't going to ask what happened?" Arya asked in a small voice.

He looked amused, glancing down at her wine soaked bust. "I think I can guess."

She blushed, ashamed of herself and what he must think of her.

Noticing she was about to cry, his face sobered and he took her hand. She refused to look at him but did not try to push him away this time, so he took her chin in his hand and raised her face up. When she looked into his eyes he was momentarily captivated, and he had the urge to wipe the tear running down her cheek. He held himself under control and simply said, "You are not the first girl, or the last I daresay, who has suffered under his brutish hand. You are the first to do anything about it though," he teased with a smile. "And that makes you special."

She looked away again but he tightened his grip, forcing her to continue holding his gaze. "It took courage to act against him," he said quietly, wanting to drive his point home. "But you are still lucky I am here."

Arya nodded, still feeling ashamed but also beginning to throb with warmth in her very core. Something about his hand holding her face had caused shivers to run down her spine, and Arya was unable to move for a moment as Eric slung the man over his shoulder and strode off, heading towards a flight of stairs leading down to the garden.

"What are you doing?" she hissed, catching up with him.

Lord Eric grinned, winked, and descended down the stairs as he replied, "I'm going to dump him in the gardens, tell someone that I saw him stumbling around out there piss drunk, and you and I will go for a midnight stroll together."

"But-"

Arya paused, looking down at her dress. She had no idea how she would explain it, not to mention the red marks where the man's teeth had marked her. She had done nothing wrong but she knew that if she was seen like this her reputation would be ruined, even if it was the man's fault.

I hate it here! she thought angrily. Court sounds so perfect from the outside, but the reality is cutthroat and depressing. I've no idea why anyone would want to live here, nevermind raise children here!

Arya had never been so glad of her background before, and sent her parents an extremely heartfelt thank you.

I just want to go home. And I would be happy to remain single forever if it meant that I could do live in Parnage forever and never set foot in Veras again.

At Eric's behest she paused in the gardens and let him move a ways away to drop the body. When Lord Eric returned he was a bit out of breath, but his eyes were bright from the exertion and from continued amusement. She looked askance of him, and Eric ordered her with a wave of his hand to stay where she was as he ran inside for a moment.