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Tempest & Temptation

"--Very well." He exhaled sharply, loosening his shirt and tie with a prompt tug. "Since you don't believe me." He slid his uniform's necktie and slipped off his suit jacket. Her eyes went wide. "What are you doing?!" "Undressing. Is that not apparent?" He started unbuttoning his undershirt. ******* A 21st century Jane Austen-inspired and Taming of the Shrew hybrid historical fiction love affair with snowballing romance, thrilling mystery and intrigue, dashed with a spice of the supernatural.

NotBeatrix · History
Not enough ratings
48 Chs

How Messy Shall it Be? (1)

Erin felt the heat from the bowl seeping into her hand as pushed it into Ezra's chest, but she didn't mind the burn because she enjoyed the result: steaming was spilling and seeping into and all over his clothes, and mushy smears of vegetable and oil were splattered in a mess. 

"Erina!" Lady Sutherton gasped, horror on every inch of her face. 

"Sorry." Erin shrugged nonchalant. "My hand just slipped." Her tongue was coated in sarcasm. "Mista Ezra?" She peered at him, knowing he was trying to process the chaos on his body. "Are you alright?" 

He was unresponsive. 

"Mister Ezra?" Lady Sutherton called, concern in her wavering eyes.

Lightly exhaling, he looked up from his damp clothes. "I'm fine." He spoke a rigidly and his jaw moved stiffly. "I apologize to concern you all. But I'm fine. It didn't hurt me. It was warm, but not boiling. And besides?" He craned his head towards Erin. "I believe it was an accident." 

"Mmhm." She nodded, the corners of her lips raised into an empty smile.

His smile didn't waver, even as he viewed Erin's mean indifference.

Lady Sutherton sighed. "Next time Erin don't make such a mess at the table."

"Of course, mother." Smirking, she held out an empty hand. "Now my fresh glass? You never gave it to me?"

In Ezra's raised hand was Erin's wine glass, stuck in his clenched fists. To Erin he appeared to be clutching so tightly she could see the bones in his knuckles. 

He glanced at his fist and then to Erin. "Yes." He sat the glass on the table gently. "Do you want something to drink now?"

"Mmhm," she happily purred, smile wide. Just the mere sight of his dying, fizzling smile was enough to make her feel accomplished.

"Alright." He reached into the service cart, randomly tugging out another wine bottle and refilling her glass with tense silence.

"Thank you, Dullard." She exposed the whites of her teeth and sharpness of her canines. 

"Of course." He returned her smile. "Now, shall I continue with my story?" He turned his eyes to Lord and Lady Sutherton.

"Please do." Lady Sutherton was eager to say. 

Erin's smile quickly died. Just as soon as she controlled the room with attention, he snatched it right back. 

"So, as I was saying, what happened next sounds unbelievable, but it is entirely true." Ezra continued with a gesture of his hands. "The Lord happened to be racing the horses with a fellow acquaintance. But they were running a little too rough." 

"This doesn't sound good already," Lady Sutherton cautiously added. 

"No, no, no it doesn't." Erin interrupted with a mocking tone. "Oh, I'm so excited to hear you continue, Mista Ezra!" Disgust crept along her lips as the words escaped.

He smiled. "Thanks. But, yes, you are both right, it wasn't good because soon he was launched off his horse. He hit the ground so hard everyone could hear the crack of bones from afar. So, immediately we called the doctor. Doctor comes in, does the check up, and determines him to be fine. He had some scratches from the incident, but he seemed in good health---according to the doctor."

"Then what went wrong?" Lady Sutherton asked.

"The key was the problem was not physical, it was mental. The duke had hit his head on that bad spot in such a way that a fit of mania and delusion took him. He falsely assumed that his doctor was his long-lost and very dead brother whom he despised."

"Mental and not physical? Odd that sounds familiar," Lord Sutherton had added.

They were harmless in nature, but those words struck Erin so intensely she slammed her wine glass down hard against the table. Her eyes glued to him, a simmering fire starting in her chest. 

"How dare you." Erin's tongue was on fire as she glared at her father. "Do not ever, mention Sabina that way!" she spat, on the border of a yell. 

"Excuse me?" Her father turned an iron stare on her. "Whom are you talking to?" 

For a moment, the force of his voice and his glare impaled her. In that long tense moment, she was stunted and restricted to a quiet stare. 

She knew she should stop and resist adding anymore fuel to the growing flame. But she couldn't stop herself, and her mouth opened before she tamed her tongue. "I spoke clearly."

"E-Erina, what is this sudden outburst?" Lady Sutherton hurried out words. "Your father was not even talking about Sabina, so end your temper, now." She peaked at her husband, and worriedly placing a hand on his arm. "Daviyd." She gripped her husband's hand and looked back to Ezra. "Mister Ezra, please just continue with your---." 

"---Sabina is not crazy. You all just want her to be crazy so you have to an excuse to remove her from your lives. Be honest, you want an excuse not the truth! I bet you don't even know where Sabina is. I bet you haven't really spoken or seen her, because you want to let the First Prince Kaelixson-Nier 'handle her'. And his handling is likely to simply trap her away like some object he can put and take off a shelf!" 

"Erin," Lady Sutherton whispered. 

"Be honest!" 

"No, enough of your horrid mouth!" Lord Sutherton hissed at her with a boiling hot snarl. "I'm tired of hearing you speak. We have told you the matter with Sabina is not something that concerns you!" 

"You would have nothing concern me, Lord Sutherton." Her voice was coarse as she stressed with a honing of eyes.

"Erina, stop. Do not anger your father any further," Lady Sutherton said, pain prickling her like a thorn. She felt loose hairs so brushed her hair back and swallowed with chapped lips. 

Erin's fingers coiled into the palm of her fist. She was entering dangerous territory. Her father always her 'little outbursts' as if to placate her childish temper. But there was always a limit. A limit she had already passed.