17 A Veil of Thorns - Chapter 17
A day later, Daisy rose early in the morning for grocery shopping. She liked to go to the market before it was crowded, but she often didn't find time to do so. Katherine and her daughters had calmed down since they returned from Lord Blackthorne's home a few days ago. If only they knew she wasn't planning to marry the Marquess.
Daisy had been thinking about how she could make him lose interest without being obvious, but there wasn't much she could think of. She wasn't good at acting, so if she was to plan something, it had to be partially true so she could be convincing.
What nasty habits did she have? Her mind spun, as she made her way through the quiet streets of the village, her basket swinging gently by her side. The air was brittle, and the soft orange hues of the morning sky provided a serene backdrop for her morning errands and thoughts.
The vendors where probably still setting up their stalls, so she decided to take the longer route to the market and enjoy the morning sun. Birds chirped and flitted from branch to branch, their songs filling the air with the melody of the new day. A cat darted across the road, it's tail high as it disappeared into the bushes.
Daisy strolled past the lake, expecting to see Lady Margaret feeding the ducks, as was her morning routine. But the area around the lake was unusually quiet. She pondered if Lady Margaret had stopped her morning routine or was merely sleeping late today.
Suddenly, the rumbling sound of a carriage drew her attention. Quickly, she stepped aside, allowing it to pass, but instead of going by, the carriage slowed to a halt. A prickle of curiosity, mixed with a hint of caution, made her halt her steps.
The carriage door creaked open, and a man stepped out. He was impeccably dressed in a well-tailored jacket, and his shoes were shining with polish.
"Excuse me, young lady," he spoke, adjusting his cravat. "We seem to have lost our way. Could you point us in the direction of The Leaky Keg Tavern?"
They must be travelers, Daisy thought. But something about the man didn't sit right with her. His speech and demeanor seemed at odds with his attire. And the carriage, despite looking new, creaked in an odd manner, and the horse pulling it appeared neglected.
Distracted by her growing unease, Daisy stuttered slightly as she gave the man the directions to the tavern. He thanked her with a pleasant smile and reentered the carriage. Breathing a sigh of relief, Daisy turned to resume her journey to the market.
But as she was about to step away, a sudden tight grip encircled her waist, and a cloth was pressed against her mouth. Her scream was muffled as the stinging scent of the cloth filled her nostrils. Panic surged through her as she fought against the invading fog.
Her basket fell from her grasp, and she tried to claw away the man's hand from her mouth while she kicked back with her leg. But every breath she took made her limbs heavier, her thoughts fuzzier.
The last thing she remembered before everything went black was the door of the carriage opening and her body being dragged inside.
Daisy awoke with a startle, her heart pounding in her chest. The unfamiliar scent of scorched metal and aged wood, mingled with the acrid tang of stale alcohol, filled her nostrils. Her head pounded, matching the rhythm of her frantic heartbeat.
She lay still for a moment, staring at the ceiling, the unfamiliar patterns sending a ripple of dread coursing through her. A sense of unease seeped into her bones and the realization that something was terribly wrong cemented itself in her mind.
She bolted upright, her gaze darting around the small, confined space. The room was sparsely furnished, the worn wooden floor creaking under her weight. A sudden burst of loud, slurred laughter from outside the room made her jump. Her heart pounded against her ribcage, each thud echoing her rising panic.
Where was she?
The door swung open, revealing Philip standing in the doorway. His smile, wide, sent a cold shiver down her spine. Daisy recoiled, pressing herself against the headboard, her eyes wide with terror.
"Sweet Daisy, come! My friends have been eagerly waiting for you to wake up."
His voice and words sent waves of revulsion coursing through her. He chuckled, turning to address the unseen audience outside. "She's a bit shy."
Her face drained of color and the room seemed to close in on her, the walls inching closer, the air growing thinner. Her mind screamed at her to run, but her limbs refused to obey.
Ignoring her visible distress, Philip stepped inside, advancing towards her with a foolish grin. "Come now, Daisy."
No. No. No!
With a burst of adrenaline, Daisy sprang from the bed, fleeing from the room. She was met with the sight of a group of men, sprawled around the room, glasses of ale in their hands. Their laughter and raucous cheering filled the room, their eyes gleaming with anticipation.
"Daisy!" They cheered, raising their glasses in a toast.
Her heart pounded in her chest, the sickening feeling of fear and disgust overwhelming her. She bolted past them, their calls and jeers chasing after her. She pushed through the front door, stumbling onto the street.
The sight of surprised faces on the street stopped her in her tracks. Her breath hitched, her mind racing as she grappled with the implications of her current predicament. Her reputation, her standing in society, all of it threatened to crumble before her eyes.
The fact that it was dark outside only made matters worse. She was ruined.
"Daisy!" Philip's voice echoed behind her, his laughter slicing through the air. "Come back inside. No need to be shy. We are getting married."
His audacity took her by surprise. Was he really doing this?
A surge of anger welled up within her, hot and blistering, drowning out her fear. How dare he! With a newfound determination, she spun around, her gaze darting around for anything she could use as a weapon. Her hand closed around a sturdy-looking branch lying discarded by the side of the road.
She stormed back toward the house, her grip on the branch tightening, the rough bark biting into her palm. Philip's surprised face as she reappeared was a sight to behold.
"Daisy, what—" He started, but she didn't let him finish. She swung the branch, hitting him square in the chest. He stumbled back, surprise etched on his face.
"You bastard!" She yelled, throwing the branch at him before running away.
She sprinted down the dark street, the cool air stinging her tear-streaked cheeks. She didn't know the way back but all she could think of was getting far away from Philip now. Far away from everything and as she ran she found herself running on a narrow path through the woods.
The moonlight filtering through the towering trees cast long, ominous shadows that seemed to dance in the cool night breeze. Her heart continued to race, not just from the exertion but also from the fear, anger, and adrenaline still coursing through her veins.
Suddenly, as she rounded a bend in the path, she collided with a solid figure. Stumbling back, she gasped, before two strong hands grabbed her and pulled her forward. She looked up, and her eyes widened in surprise.
Lord Blackthorne towered over her, his dark eyes narrowing. The moonlight glinted off his obsidian hair, and his angular features were etched sharply in the pale glow.
"Daisy." He spoke, his deep voice void of questions, as if he weren't the slightest surprised to see her here. "What are you doing here?"
"I…" she could barely speak. She was fighting to breathe, her chest tightening, and her mind spinning. "I.."
"Breathe, Daisy," he told her.
"I…" she couldn't breathe.
As she forced herself to take in shaky breaths, she felt the world stop spinning around her, and then suddenly she couldn't feel the ground beneath her feet anymore.
Through the haze, Daisy felt a warm, solid presence beneath her. She was being carried, cradled against a broad chest that was hard and unyielding. There was a sense of safety in the strong arms that held her, a sense of protection that seeped into her frazzled nerves, calming her racing heart.
The world around her was a blurry mess, the shapes and colors merging into each other. Yet she felt strangely detached, as if she was observing it all from a distance. It was surreal, almost dreamlike, and for a fleeting moment, she wondered if she was indeed dreaming.
But the feeling of rough fabric against her cheek, the rhythm of the stride that carried her, and the steady rise and fall of his chest were all too real. She was being carried away, away from the nightmare that her life had suddenly become, nestled in the arms of a stranger who was not so strange in this moment.
Gradually, the hardness of the world around her softened, as the coarse texture of a familiar mattress pressed against her back. The sight of the quaint wooden beams that formed the ceiling of her room filtered through her blurred vision, offering a small comfort in the form of familiarity. A myriad of questions swarmed her mind, but they were dulled, pushed aside by the relief that settled over her like a warm blanket.
Then she felt a gentle hand brush the hair off her face, the touch firm yet feather-light, almost reverent. Lord Blackthorne's dark eyes held a softness she hadn't seen before, and as they bore into hers, the rest of the world seemed to disappear.
"Daisy," he whispered, his voice a low, calming baritone that seemed to resonate within her. He brushed a stray lock of hair from her face, his touch lingering for a moment too long.
His thumb traced a path down her cheek, "You are safe now," he said softly, his voice a soothing lullaby in the quiet room.
His words echoed in her head, a mantra that repeated itself over and over until it was the only thing she could focus on. Safe. She was safe. As the heaviness of exhaustion began to pull at her, she closed her eyes, his whispered assurances the last thing she heard before succumbing to the darkness.
