She was the new wife of the Viscount Haldane.
Down a pathway in the garden, she sauntered in a velvet, taffeta gown with the adorning gems glinting in the sunlight. A matching veil covered her copper, plaited hair. She spoke to her lady-in-waiting in low tones about, from what Dominic could hear, flower replacements for the garden.
The boy pressed his body against a thick tree that stood at a distance where the pair could not catch sight of him. His heart beat rapidly at the mere thought of his surreptitiousness, as he had, against his mother’s orders, neglected feeding several of the smaller animals just to be there. He could not help that the apple of his eye was as tempting and enchanting as the forbidden fruit itself.
Even the most majestic plants envied the noblewoman. Her raspberry lips curved upward and her green, deep-set eyes squinted when she laughed at the lady-in-waiting’s remark. The occasional winds caressed a few strands that slipped out of the constricting plaits atop her head, and Dominic could only fancy her hair loose. And no doubt the voluminous dress obscured curves and lines his simple eyes were desperate to devour.
Her light face turned to his direction, and he gasped as he hid behind the trunk. Had she known his presence--his mere existence--the entire world would fall into ruin. His nerves escalating, he felt grateful for the breeze in the tree’s shadows cooling his heated skin.
After waiting a few moments, he decided she had not seen him. Then he remembered the hour of supper, and he lifted himself off the trunk immediately. He might as well return now and hope his absence was still unnoticed. So he began the trip back home, picturing his mother’s greeting scowl.
There was never a day when the viscountess did not trespass on his thoughts. His routines pulled him away from paying another visit, yet the idea appealed to him still.
Due to his younger sister’s unexpected influenza, Dominic went to gather barberries in the outskirts of the village. By the time his basket carried a handful, he leaned his back against a rowan tree as he recalled the viscountess in the garden once more. He sighed.
At the lake, the faint sound of a sluice in the water caught his attention. He turned and braced the rowan tree to keep his balance.
Did his young eyes deceive him?
The goddess, nude and pale, slipped into the lake with her eyes closed and lips arched upward, as if she had waited long for this moment. Her copper hair, now free from braids, reached down to her hips, and her slender hands waded through the fresh water. She shivered when a slight breeze fondled her hair, goosebumps forming in the pale skin of her breasts, shoulders, and arms. Her hands cupped the water and poured it over her breasts with droplets trickling around her rosebuds. She poured more water over herself until her shoulders relaxed.
Dominic lowered himself behind a shrub until he found a diamond-shaped opening, with the viscountess as the subject of a twig-framed artwork.
The tips of her hair dipped into the lake as she sank lower in the fresh water. Her head tipped back, and a contented sigh escaped her lips. At the copper hair that danced like sparks in the wind, at the white skin glistening with water, at the mystique in her green eyes as they opened at the sky, Dominic marveled.
The water rippled from every movement she made, securing her within its boundaries. The winds brushed her rufous mane into submission. Submerging and emerging, the plants moved and played with her. The sprite and her home became one.
The Nymph, he decided to call her.
Trembling, he shifted his weight from his knees to his feet and hit a twig that snapped. The Nymph turned to his direction, and Dominic smothered his mouth with his palm. A wave of anxiety surfaced inside of him as his heart thumped murderously in his chest and ears. Closing his eyes, he curled up into a ball. Mayhap he could shrink more and more until he would disappear?
After a moment of silence, he opened his eyes and peeked through the opening again. She had swum to the other end of the lake.
He released a breath and uncurled his body. Dominic knew he had to stay until she would leave. Yet, if it costed staying in a restricted position to steal ravenous looks at the Nymph, he did not mind.
The ethereal Nymph spent the next few moments wandering here and there in the pool. The water slid over her skin, and the plants tickled her occasionally. She floated on her back, using her arms and legs to maneuver. Then a woman’s call interrupted the stillness.
There was a small splash as the Nymph shifted upright and answered the woman’s call. Moving to the side of the lake, she wrung out her hair. Water trailed behind her feet as she sauntered to the rock where her clothing lay. She turned away from Dominic, much to his dismay, as she put on her breeches and chemise, followed by a silk underskirt and gown. She bundled up the rest of the garments in her arms and started the way home.
When she disappeared into the trees, Dominic lay on his back and stared at the white clouds. A smile played on his lips as he folded his hands atop his stomach.
He sought her out the next day, and many days afterward. She rose in the late morning, bathed in a tub set up by her personal maid, wrote letters to acquaintances, took brief walks outside of the manor house, and by nighttime sewed a tapestry of her coat of arms. Dominic particularly enjoyed watching her at night. It was the only time of day when he was not driven away by manuring the field under the blistering sun. There was also something content about her when she worked on the tapestry, as if it were a secret pursuit akin to his visits. After a time he simply came in the night.
As he finished ploughing, his mother dashed into the field. She announced there was to be a ball hosted by the Viscountess Haldane.
“On the morrow!” she cried, going away to tell his sister.
Dominic turned to the Nymph’s manor, which sat on a hillside visible just above a cluster of trees. For a moment, he wondered if she was aware of his visits. Anxiety paralyzed him for the rest of the day, and for the first time, he did not pay her a visit that night.
The evening of the ball, his family arrived to the manor. Smells of bread, fruits, spices, and wines filled the halls, mingled with the melodies of vielles and flutes. Peasants conversed and performed the few dances they knew in the Great Hall. Dominic’s family joined with everyone else, forgetting him.
He only searched for her.
One hall was void, another with a few children his age, who jested about the funny way the bishop’s hands moved when he preached. The Nymph’s lady-in-waiting passed the children and murmured a quip that sent them clutching their bellies in laughter. Grinning, she exited the hall, and Dominic followed.
She passed many rooms until he was certain they were nearing the Nymph’s chamber. His heart pounded from the thought of her nearness and aura. He could even detect the smell of--
He rammed into velvet fabric and lithe hands that steadied him. Swallowing, he tilted his head back to find sea-green eyes that looked into his plain ones. She cocked her head to one side and gave a heart-stirring smile.
His body jerked, slipping out of her hands. As he leaned against his elbows, the Nymph giggled and shook her head. He blinked several times.
Her lips were a darker shade of raspberry, and a headdress laced with gold thread covered her hair. Long, velvet sleeves draped around the warm hands that had touched him.
She kneeled down and studied him carefully with her green eyes. She began to say words, but he heard the lake, the winds, the plants from that day. And he felt home again.
A proffered hand, palm facing upward, appeared from beneath a velvet sleeve. Dominic glanced up at the Nymph’s beaming countenance. With reluctance, he took the hand and stood up. She nodded to him once and headed back to the Great Hall.
But he did not follow her. Instead he ran to a balcony, choking from awe. For her to know his mere existence made her evermore incarnate. In him he felt a new exhilaration as he gripped the railing, and he took longer breaths until the beating of his heart slowed.
But it was his heart, as well as his head, that worsened his bearing of these inspired feelings.
He decided to pay her a visit long after the ball’s end--later than his usual hour. Climbing up a tree that stood closest to the Nymph’s window, he struggled to quiet down his rushed breaths.
When he reached his branch, he heard strange sounds from the bedroom. He stopped mid-step and stared. On the scarlet canopy bed, the Nymph and her viscount grappled, without clothing. Her legs were wrapped tightly around his waist as he repeated the same movement with his hips, each one increasing her cries and genuine smiles.
He was hurting her. And she liked it.
Dominic was shaken.
Addled.
Inflamed.
The viscount stroked and bit various places of her skin, the muscles in his back tensing as the couple made even louder noises. Then suddenly, their shared exertions reached a peak that made them yell and scream at the tops of their lungs.
Dominic clambered down the tree. He wished he could erase his memory. He wished he had never visited.
Yet, as Dominic replayed the scene in his mind, he realized the viscount had perfect access to that slender, pale figure. And the viscount could do anything he wanted to her, for he was another male that gave her joy and pleasure.
And only that male was whom she wanted.
Wiping away his tears with his sleeves, Dominic thought of returning home. Then he collided with a body smaller than his, both falling onto the grass and dirt. By the time he looked up, a girl of similar age blushed as she scrambled to her feet. She murmured an inaudible apology while staring at the ground.
Had she spied on him?
Her light, woollen dress and ash brown hair fluttered in the evening breeze. She was the girl that often traveled with her father to trade shoes and textiles. Sometimes Dominic would see her carrying water from the well near the road to the manor.
Her cheeks growing redder, she sneaked an anxious glance at him. She looked back down and turned to the direction of the village.
Dominic smiled and followed her, leaving behind the Nymph.
His current motives occupied him elsewhere.
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