Chapter Twelve
A fortnight later, when the worst and most ghastly symptoms of my illness have abated and I’m contemplating returning to work, Lloyd shimmies up behind me at the bathroom sink and takes the toothbrush from my hand.
‘Would it be fair to say that you’re feeling much better, Soph?’
I look at him warily, my mouth full of toothpaste. ‘What do you mean?’ I try saying, but it comes out as if through a gag. I swallow and try again.
‘I mean,’ he says, bending to kiss my shoulder, watching himself in the mirror, ‘do you remember a certain deflowered princess, and the appointment she had with the Dark Prince that time?’
I don’t know what he’s talking about for a moment, then I remember our hot scene in the forest, way back when Lloyd set his challenge. My toes curl and I grin up at him. ‘Oh, that deflowered princess. That was a hot scene.’
‘Hottest scene ever. I’m thinking I might be in the mood for a reprise.’
‘Now?’
‘Well, I’m thinking that the temp I hired to stand in for you can work to the end of the week. And I’m not due in for another two hours. So …’
‘I see. Do I need to get ready?’
‘I’ve laid some stuff out for you on the bed. I’ll get ready in the living room.’
‘Get ready.’ I bounce on my feet, excited already. ‘What are you getting ready for?’
‘Ohhh, you really don’t want to know.’ He puts his hands around my neck and presses his thumbs deep into my shoulder blades, then he walks out, leaving me on high alert.
I finish my ablutions in record time and make my way into the bedroom, where a medieval-ish fancy dress kit is spread across the covers. It’s a long red and gold thing with a V-shaped belt, low-cut with bell sleeves and a ribbon bodice. There don’t appear to be any knickers or bra, though I do have a pair of red velvet slippers for my feet.
The dress fits snugly and I admire my curvaceous silhouette in the mirror, plaiting my hair in fantasy-princess style, all the better for Lloyd to pull later on. I add a few dabs of make-up and then I stand by the door, getting into role, imagining myself as the trepidatious princess, about to have her plans comprehensively scuppered.
She’d put on a brave face. She’s not about to give in to the Dark Prince without a struggle. That evil, nasty man … shame he’s so attractive … never mind.
I open the door to find Lloyd dressed in an imaginative rendering of an old-school villain. He has some kind of long black tunic on, belted at the waist with a child’s toy sword and a riding crop dangling from the side. I’m pretty sure that’s a pair of my leggings too that he’s stretching way out of shape, but I’m not about to quibble. With the riding boots and the drawn-on pointy beard and moustache combo, he looks really a lot better than I expected.
All the same, it’s hard not to laugh when he wheels around and says, ‘Ah, my bride,’ with a histrionic sneer.
‘I fear not, my lord,’ having decided that Your Highness is less sexy a moniker.
‘What do you mean? The match is arranged. Your little adventure in the forest is over and you are delivered to me for our wedding.’
‘My little adventure in the forest had consequences that may well cause you to abandon the marriage.’
He comes closer, takes my face in his hand and holds it firm. ‘Oh? Pray tell.’
‘There was a brigand of the forest. He came upon me in the night-time. He … beguiled me.’
Lloyd’s grip on my chin tightens. ‘Beguiled you? You mea
n, you willingly …?’
‘I gave him my maidenhead. No force was used.’
He drops my chin, claps his arms to his sides, staring at me. He is so convincing, I could really think he is shocked and stunned. ‘Willingly?’ he repeats in a whisper.
‘Willingly. So, you see, you will not wish to wed a whore like me. I shall prepare for the journey home.’
I turn to the bedroom door, but he lunges for my elbow and pulls me up close.
‘You think I will relinquish my claim on your father’s lands and your dowry so easily? You think I will let you go, just because you have sullied yourself with a brigand?’