The Tale of Destiny Rose

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is a work in progress.

The jet black night was spared only by a weak slice of moonlight. Stormclouds pregnant with the promise of rain loomed overhead in the darkness. The chilly early spring breeze pinkened the cheeks of the young woman on horseback.

Destiny Rose was furious, riding the poor beast for all she was worth.

"How dare she? How dare she run off to London with MY betrothed? How could Evan fall for a trollop like Monica?!!!" she raged to herself, gripping the reins tighter.

She WON'T be forgiven! she vowed silently. Angry tears chilled her face but she paid them no mind. She was already beginning to plan cruel forms of torture for her sibling. The worst of which involved Monica being trampled by a herd of angry elephants.

Thundering down the beach, her long golden hair streamed out behind her. Her sad sky blue eyes weren't seeing the pounding waves on the beach or the impending storm. She could only see her sister begging for mercy in a vat full of furry venomous spiders.

By the time she reached the old fisherman's cottage near the cliffs, the sky had finally decided to let loose its torrents. She was drenched in a matter of seconds.

"Damn it all!" she cried to the heavens. With a well-chosen epithet or two, she headed for the abandoned building.

Destiny wasn't ready to face her angry father just yet. She'd made quite a scene when she had so abruptly left the manor house. As it wasn't becoming for a lady of her stature to behave so barbarically (she HAD thrown her wine goblet in frustration, it was merely an accident that she'd hit him in the head with it). For some unknown reason, he blamed her for letting Monica run off with Evan. It just wasn't fair. Or logical, in her opinion.

"But when has Monica ever been logical?" she muttered, getting down from her horse and stumbling through the mud into the empty cottage. Her plum colored cloak clung to her wetly as she pushed open the stout oaken door. She stumbled into the room in a most unladylike fashion.

A cloud of dust made her sneeze immediately but she was past caring. She had enough sense about her to make a fire in the hearth. Soon she had a cheerful little blaze going and had only singed her dress once.

She spread out her cloak to dry on the floor and lay down upon it. Exhaustion crept up on her as she stared into the fire. She was still hurting due to the fact her sister had betrayed her in the worst way.

It wasn't that she'd loved Evan. Well, maybe not much. But after all, he WAS the first one to ever show any interest in her. She'd felt like a wallflower for years next to the perfect Monica. When her sister had gone to visit a distant aunt for the holidays, Destiny was thrilled to be the center of attention for once. But her joy was short-lived.

Monica ruined that when she came back too early. It only took one look at her for Evan to turn his back on Destiny. How could he have resisted Monica's lovely curves and plentiful bosom? That had definitely stung, since Destiny's own bosom wasn't as plentiful and her curves were less than lovely.

In her heart, she knew she was well rid of him anyway. Who needed a cad like him?

Her mind eased somewhat, she finally drifted off to sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wolfgang Von Reiz was caught in the drenching storm as well. He had just left Lord Pemberton's manor house after discovering that his supposed betrothed had run off with another man. Even though the chit's father had offered his hospitality, Wolf decided to leave at once. Needless to say, he was in a very sour mood.

His midnight-colored Arabian stallion, Charon, plodded wearily onward in the rain.

"Halt! Who ventures there?" A voice barked out over the drumming of the downpour.

"No one you need meddle with if you value your worthless life!" he shouted back. Charon's ears perked up as five bulky men formed a barricade in the middle of the road ahead.

"Oh, I wouldn't say that", the voice called out again as one more man joined his squad of thugs. It belonged to a well-muscled brute on horseback.

"Hand over all of your gold or you will be taught a lesson on manners!" he growled at Wolf.

Shhhhinng! The sound of a blade being drawn was accompanied by Wolf replying, "I was never one for manners."

The man in black leapt off his horse, simultaneously drawing two curved swords of his own.

"Then you will DIE!"

Steel met steel and they parried, thrusted, and parried some more. But it didn't last long. Wolf's adversary was too driven by his emotions. He lacked self-control and that was the death of him.

Quick as a wink, Wolf mounted Charon and wheeled him about to face the rest of the thug squad.

"Who feels like dying next?" he sneered, blood mixing with rain on his blade.

One of the men started towards Wolf. He was armed with two swords like his leader and he began waving them about in a threatening manner. Wolf supposed the man was trying to awe him with his stunning theatrics but the effect was lost on him.

He gutted him quickly with a single well-aimed thrust.

"Saracen", he muttered in disgust.

The other two were arguing over who would go next.

"It's your turn!" one persisted.

"No, it's yours!" his companion argued.

The last man was beyond words as Wolf focused his attention on them. His eyes grew wide for a moment and then the rest of the thugs fled in terror. Their horses' hoofbeats thundered splashily into the distance.

"Highwaymen!" Wolf spat in distaste. He despised those who would take advantage of others. It just wasn't right.

Wiping his sword on his sopping wet mantle, he looked about him for signs of houses. The rain was really coming down by now and he was in no mood to continue his journey in this kind of weather.

The trees were thinning out by the time he reached the darkened cottage. At first he thought it was uninhabited but a pretty white mare was tethered near the front entrance.

He knocked on the door only to have it swing open under his touch.

A faint glow of the dying fire offered very little light. But even it was enough to illuminate something that caught his immediate interest.

She lay there on the floor, her golden hair blanketing her young curvaceous body. Her heart-shaped face suggested innocence while her small button nose hinted at a bit of arrogance too. Her long lashes swept against her delicate pink cheeks in her slumber.

Wolf dared not disturb her for fear she might disappear like a vision. He felt a desire welling in his loins that he hadn't felt in years.

Shaking his head to clear his besotted mind, he knew he could not have this young woman. She was obviously of some lineage as suggested by her clothing and fine features.

So he decided to ignore her instead. It was better than going back out into the driving rain. He doubted there was another dwelling for miles anyway.

He lay his cloak down a good distance from the temptress and promptly went to sleep like a gentleman.

Or at least tried too.

She wouldn't leave his mind alone. He wondered what her name was. He wondered what she looked like under all those clothes.

You need to dwell on other thoughts, Wolf told himself. This will get you no where.

But, at last, fatigue won him over and he succumbed to it gladly.

Sometime during the night, Destiny Rose woke with a start to the crash of thunder. She sat bolt upright, confused at first by her surroundings.

Then it all came back in a rush: Monica's patronizing letter, the angry ride along the beach, the storm releasing its fury upon her. The little cottage was still dark and damp. But then she noticed a strange heap near one corner.

At first it appeared to be a large bundle of rags and she didn't remember seeing it earlier. Her curiosity was piqued.

She got up carefully, not wanting to make a sound. Standing over the pile, she peered down and tried to make out what it was that she was seeing.

It was a huge frame of a man. His dark hair curled gently to his collar and his handsome well-chiseled face looked peaceful as he slept. Just the sight of him made her go weak in the knees. She bent down to stroke away an errant black curl from his stubbled cheek....

That was when the hand suddenly reached out and grabbed her ankle!

Destiny jumped in alarm but he held her fast. Somehow the handsome devil had been awake all along!

To cover her initial shock, she reacted as if he were one of her servants.

"Sirrah, I demand you release me at once!"

She would have stamped her foot for effect but remembered he was still gripping it.

"You're a saucy one, aren't you?" his voice rumbled in amusement.

In the darkened room, she was glad he couldn't see how red her face was. His rumbles sent little tingles of excitement up her legs, much to her surprise.

"And are you the lady of the house?" he continued, hand still firmly attached to her ankle.

"I might be." She tipped her head arrogantly, in an attempt to regain her slightly shaken composure.

He sat up and made a show of looking around the cottage's sad state of repair. Destiny tried to think of an excuse but her mind was centered on the fact he was thumbing small slow circles on her stockinged ankle.

"I've...been away."

"Really?"

Even in the gloom, she could feel his piercing and perhaps mocking stare. It was blatantly obvious to both of them she was fibbing.

Destiny began to fidget. This was NOT going the way it should have. Why, he should be groveling at her feet! Not rubbing it like that....although it did feel rather nice. And she liked the way it made her knees go all wobbley.

But she knew her fascade wouldn't last. She twisted her hands and then to her horror, she began to cry.

It wasn't a polite sniffling sort of crying. It was the ugly stomach sobbing sort. The particularly embarrassing variety.

"Ah now...don't start that. I wasn't trying to insult your cottage. I'm sure it's-" he said, finally letting her ankle go. He sat up to regard her outburst in a baffled sort of way.

"It's n-not tha-that! I don't give a whit about this stinking place! I was only tr-trying to get away from m-my father for awhile!" Here she took a noisy breath and then continued. "And I came h-here to think about how I could murder that treacherous sis-sister! That evil sow!"

"You're sister is a pig?"

"I think she is! She ran off to London with my...my betrothed! And my father thinks it is my fault! I HATE ALL OF THEM!"

By now Destiny was hugging herself and occasionally swiping at her cheeks with her sleeves. Wolf stood up. He did the only thing he knew worked in situations like these.

Without a word, he gathered the sobbing young woman into his arms.

She reacted just as he thought she would. She bawled like a baby onto his shoulder. He simply stood there until the worst of it was over.

She leaned back and said, "I'm sorry about that. I got the whole left side of your jerkin wet."

"No worry, it won't stain. Look, can we begin this whole conversation over again? I feel the need to know who just cried in my arms. I don't let just anyone do that, mind you."

She managed a small smile as she replied, "Destiny Rose Marguerite Fabinne Alexandria Pemberton."

Then she bobbed a small curtsey to be polite.

"My, that's some name! You wouldn't mind if I just called you Destiny? I admit I got rather lost after the rest of that."

"I don't mind. But please, what should I call you, sir?"

"My name is Wolfgang Mikel Von Reiz." He made a sort of bow in the darkness.

Destiny hid a grin behind her hands. "I also don't suppose you'd tell me what you are doing here? These are my father's lands and I don't remember seeing you around here lately."

She got the impression that he shrugged in the darkness.

"Same as you apparently. Seeking shelter from the storm. I was on the road, traveling to visit my intended when the rain overtook me."

"You let a little storm stop you from seeing the woman you love?" she asked before she could stop herself.

But obviously she'd gone to far. He didn't reply.

Silently berating herself for being so common, she chose a different tact. She wandered over to a small pile of firewood and gathered up a few sizable pieces. Before long, she was warming her hands on the once again cheery blaze.

Destiny sat back down on her nearly-dry cloak to stare thoughtfully at the flames. Wolf pulled his own cloak near hers and joined her in watching the flames.

"What do you plan to do once you return home?"

She found the sound of his voice soothing for some reason. It had a nice rumbley effect that made her insides feel nice and warm.

"I'm not sure. My father will probably be glad Monica ran off with that cad once he gives it some thought. He's rid of at least one daughter now." She continued to stare moodily straight ahead.

Wolf said nothing at first. His quick mind had already figured out what had happened. Her sister was the one HE was supposed to marry. And now...well, everything had changed.

The young woman sitting beside him was certainly appealing to him and his mislaid plans. Certainly her father would see the sense in Wolf's decision to marry HER instead....

He made up his mind to say nothing about it at the present because Destiny didn't seem to be at her best frame of mind. Who could blame her?

Wolf would just bide his time.

In the end, she wound up falling asleep on him. She had just kind of slumped over sideways and before he knew it, her head was resting comfortably on his thigh.

He grinned down at her softly snoring form. She never stirred the rest of the night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next morning Maggie was busy sweeping the front hall when Destiny and Wolf came through the massive oaken door. Without a word, the servant ran off to find her lordship.

By the time Destiny reached her chambers, she was immediately surrounded by her maid servants. It seemed to her that they wanted to changed her dress and fix her hair. At the same time.

Rowena, her own personal maid, entered the room just as Destiny's long golden hair was being braided.

"Your father requires your presence in the library. Immediately."

That sent the servants into a mad scramble. In no time short, she was freshly dressed in a sky blue fine linen gown and two thick blonde plaits hung down the front of her bodice. She gathered whatever dignity she could summon and walked toward the library with her head held high.

Inwardly, she was terrified as to what mood her father would be in. He was given to fits of irrational behaviour and she had witnessed many of them.

Surprisingly, Lord Pemberton was smiling broadly when she was bade enter the room. He waved a goblet of wine in her direction.

"Sit, daughter of mine! I have good news for you!" he sang out happily.

Destiny eyed him with suspicion in her gaze....

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To Be Continued!