Simple Missteps
Chapter Four
Lillian K. Rockmore

The days that followed were tolerable; the nights that she was met with were completely the opposite. Tiara busied herself with books whenever she could, burying her nose in every interesting novel that caught her attention. It is such a wonder, she thought, the ability to sink into a new world where reality was a mere shadow.

For in truth, she missed him. She would never admit to herself that she did, but her heart knew the truth. Every night as she lay in bed, tossing and turning with suppressed desires, she would think of him and how he'd held her on their last night. The way his fingers had touched her hesitantly, the way his sculpted lips had scorched her tender flesh-- those were the memories that accompanied her into dreams.

She awoke every morning with one number in her head: the number that counted down the number of days till he returned home. And as those numbers grew smaller, she felt herself hopping out of bed every day, enthusiastically waiting for dusk to arrive again so that he would be home sooner.

The castle was her peaceful haven. And that was why she was so thoroughly shocked when she heard the screams, late one evening.

Tiara had been sitting amidst the roses in the lustrous green garden, entangled in a web of tales that Byron was spinning about her. But the scream penetrated right through the thick web, awakening her senses in its wake. She got to her feet hurriedly, the plain white dress that she wore swirling about her like lacy froth. Taking off in a dead run, panic gripped her tall frame as she dashed out of the garden and up the steps to the receiving room.

She stopped dead in her tracks when she saw the man. He had Emily by the waist and was devouring her lips brutally, his fingers groping at the young woman's bodice. Tiara's eyes burned in anger when she spotted Emily struggling frantically against the man, her diminutive strength no match to his superior brawn.

Tiara rushed forward and gripped him by the arms, pulling at him back with all her might. After a few desperate tugs, he grunted and turned to face her, leaving Emily free. The young woman dashed off in a flight for survival. Tiara could only hope that she had run to get help, for the ugly man's attentions were now fixated on her.

"Ahh, yes. The butler told me that my brother were keepin' a whore," he drawled, the slur of his speech an indication of his bedrunken state. Tiara recoiled when the stench of his breath hit her senses in full force. Lord, the man probably hadn't heard of tooth powder in all his years! And he had called her a whore! "What's yer name, bitch?"

"Excuse me, sir. My name is Tiara de' Chastelle, daughter of Lord Wolvermonte. I am certainly not the who-," she was cut off in mid-sentence as