The Lord's Step-daughter- Part One

Twenty-eight days had passed since the death of Gabriel and that fact had been hidden from Harriet. Even as relationships escalated tacitly between the mother and daughter, Little Harriet would subtly still tiptoe into her mother's room every night and sleep in her embrace, snuggling into her arms and the woman would act indifferent, though she couldn't stop the wide smile spread on her face.

The love the duo abhorred for each other was endless, despite their clash.

In these past few days, some tragedies further triggered Harriet's poor soul. One was the premature death of their last cow. Little Harriet once enquired why the cow was deceased, but her mother had told her it was an infection that had it killed. The little girl cried her eyes out that night, following the next. She'd refuse to have any food and that brought fear to Marinette.

As much as she missed her husband and his nostalgic solutions, she could simply watch the pain her daughter was feeling. Marinette would helplessly monitor in a corner until her child slept tiredly; and then she'd wash her up, change her clothes and cry when she wasn't looking. In those past disheartening days, she found out what she and her daughter had in common.

It was the great pain of losing a dear one. They related to that misery. What would happen if Harriet found the real truth, circulating about her father?

Now, after a long time, Little Harriet was finally keen to show herself to the world. If it hadn't been for Peter's beneficial support.

It was as they said. When one finds themselves in a tight hardship, there's always this guardian angel that'd brush all worries away.

"Everyone has to move ahead in life in the end, don't you second that?" Peter said behind the woman, who was lost in thought. The man was wearing a white shirt and black winter leather pants but also had a thin brown jacket to shield himself from the harsh weather, which already carelessly killed enough people and made a few fell poorly in the aforesaid week. His locks were cut in an uncluttered shave and his beard was neatly trimmed.

Getting no response or body movement from the woman, Peter ran a hand through his thick hair and sat down beside her, his eyes heeding her range of sight, which turned out to be the little girl. Little Harriet was happy at the farm, running after the donkey he had gotten her. A deep smile appeared on his face having to see that small beam on Marinette's face.

How many days had he waited to see that smile? His heart fluttered.

"I could help with coins to pay the rest of the debts" Peter affirmed, startling Marinette with his deep, husky tone of voice. He was even sitting too close to her on the bench, a distance from the cheerful waves of laughter of the two children chasing each other.

Marinette turned her head to him with a brief refusal "Gabriel was my husband, and I am sure he wouldn't appreciate an outsider dealing with his responsibility."

"O-Outsider?" Peter questioned, his face drained of blood "You still haven't considered my proposal, have you?" The man sighed, looking away. He expected her lack of emotions, but not to that point where they'd become strangers. A week before, he laid down a proposal to Marinette - one that was both beneficial for her and the little girl, nonetheless, she rejected it.

Was she that sickened with the idea of becoming his wife?

"Marinette, I would be a better father for Harriet and..."

"Peter, stop. I am sorry but I can't. Gabriel must have taken my heart with him, as I can't seem to give you what you desire" Marinette interrupted as she explained. She knew this man was a good person, but she didn't deserve him. She deserved no one.

"You deserve a better woman. That woman isn't me" Marinette whispered, her voice akin to a feather.

Peter clutched her hands in his with a soft squeeze. Was it possible to abandon this woman when he loved her greatly, beyond words?

"We could make it work; you know. For Harriet and Darius..."

"You keep making use of my daughter as an excuse. Peter please" She quietly pulled out her hands, so as not to provoke a scene and make her daughter unhappy again or start unnecessary rumors, it was not like it mattered to her. She earned him a cold gaze and blurted out "It's as if you are imposing this topic of marriage on me. Peter, you are a nice man - a very patient one and I wouldn't want this silly conflict to drive us apart. I might be unfair to you, but I can't; my heart can't just love any other man aside from Gabriel. I hope you can understand me."

The farmstead under the clouds in the sky was bustling with workers here and there as they plucked ripened vegetables to be sold. The younger women who were there also working couldn't help but throw envious glances at Marinette. Some condemned her in their minds, and others candidly. They were fully aware of how extreme Peter's feelings were and how he was smitten by the woman and yet they felt bitter about it. They may not have the prettiest face, sumptuous breasts, and curves in every place but at least they cared for his feelings.

She was a widow! Why must he chase her still?!!

Peter was getting irked for some reason each time Marinette brought up the name of her late husband. It was like throwing him into hot lava and cleansing him with warm water.

"And more precisely, I don't want trouble with those women who are waiting to be picked as your woman" Marinette concluded. She was exhausted. She had been ever since his pestering and the problem with Gabriel's debts. Who'd have thought her loyal, dutiful husband had borrowed fifty thousand gold coins from Lord Cassius - a man known popularly for his womanizing? What did he need so much money for? And why? He told her nothing about this and that got Marinette aggrieved. She already sold the bakery, yet she didn't get enough coins. Sometimes she thought of accepting Peter's aid because being his wife was far better than becoming one of the mistresses of that sick Lord.

"Is it fear?" Asked Peter abruptly. Marinette's forehead puckered because she wasn't following.

"If it is fear, you need not worry about a thing, Mary. I'll make you forget him. I'll make you love me" Peter was quite desperate and certain. Very. After decades of waiting and now that his opportunity was opened, he dared not waste it. He'd have her at all costs.

"Ah! My headache has worsened" The woman moaned while rubbing her temples. She hated this side of Peter - when he became vulnerable. It didn't suit him at all.

"Mary, please listen...If I can make Harriet accept me as her father, would you reconsider?"

"What?"

"If Harriet calls me her father, would you marry me? Become my wife?" Peter repeated. His hazel eyes were peering at hers. He wanted to hear her reply.

"Peter, please. Don't do this!" Marinette keened. She felt if she stayed any longer with the man, she'd be driven mad, so she decided to leave the bench and return home with her daughter.

"Mary..." Peter rose to his feet instantly and stopped her. He pulled her arms to the side. Quick to push her to his body, he wrapped one of his hands around her waist, possessively, and used the other to pull her chin; right enough to look back at him.

"Peter, what are..." Peter seized her words when he sealed her lips with his. It was only brushing, yet it felt as if his heart was running a marathon race, one the town annually assembled. She was going to be the death of him one day, he was sure of that.

Marinette was stunned, but more than that, she was extremely disgruntled and annoyed. How dare he? She slapped at his chiseled body, but none of her fights affected the man.

These lips and the power they had, only Peter was aware of. The man was tempted to continue, to taste and ravish these lips. He knew it was going against Marinette's wish, not like he hadn't crossed his boundaries already.

Taste now, fight later! He thought.

Like a man hungered for centuries, he squeezed the woman against his sturdy chest and bit her lips - he wanted entrance, to taste her whole. How did she taste? Is it strawberry? The way she smells? Oh God, the torture was too much for him.

Soon gloominess filled the air, and the breeze was chilly.

On the other hand, the young village women eyeing the scene felt like they had devoured donkey poo. Each of their heart got broken by the mere sight. The older men and women just carried their faces away from the shameless act.

A widow and a widower? They did fit one another.

Darius was playing hide and seek with Harriet and the new donkey his father gifted to her, but as he was leaving to hide behind a big barrel of water, he saw the scene of his father KISSING...Harriet's mother?

The boy quickly turned his face away. His cheeks were flushed, and blood flowed through into his face. He thought "If Father kissed Harriet's mother, didn't that indirectly mean he likes her, and if he likes her and marries her, does that mean Harriet would become my SISTER? NO! NEVER! I LIKE HARRIET"

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In the late afternoon, Marinette was inside the house setting the needle to her sewing machine. The memory of Peter's hot kiss was still vivid and plaguing to her. She had slapped him after he was done and taken Harriet away from there, regardless of her feelings. She thought keeping herself busy or pricking her finger with a needle would help her torture, but no, it never did.

"Gabriel, this is hard for me. What do I do now?"

"Mama, a letter for you" Marinette tilted her head to the door when she heard her daughter's cheerful voice chanting to her. What must have gotten the little girl excited? She kept the thread aside.

Little Harriet came running from the main entrance wearing the shoes her mother had gotten her to the woman's room.

"Mother here, I met the postman at the door, and he handed this envelope to me saying it belonged to you. Did Papa write this to you? Is he finally coming home? Mama, I miss him so very much. Quickly tell me" Little Harriet was too excited. When she smiled brightly, the silver strand hidden between her hair shone even brighter, and a single dimple on her left cheek.

Marinette collected the letter with a blank expression. She knew this wasn't from her husband even as she was sad and broken inside. She wished it truly came from him. Maybe then, she'd be happier.

Little Harriet raised her head after her mother had torn the envelope and was now reading the letter. She was curious. She too wanted to know what her father wrote. Did he miss her? Was he coming soon?

"Mama, what did Father write? I want to see."

On the other hand, Marinette's face was devoid of any emotion, but if one should look closer, they would see a whirl of shock in those blue orbs.

"Harriet, go and play with your new friend, it's not from your father," Marinette told. Harriet pouted her lips, but thinking of the donkey, she immediately beamed.

"Yes! Pixie must be searching for me. I shouldn't keep her waiting" The girl clapped her hands and left.

Marinette tottered against her sewing machine as her eyes turned red. She couldn't believe what she had just read, especially from that man. That murderer!! The killer of her husband. The man that ruined her life.

"From Lord Sinclair to Miss Marinette.

How are you there? Hope the death of your husband didn't take the remains of your sanity!

Lady Chowbury, I have decided to give my children a new mother.

You are the perfect choice, don't you think?

Oh, pretty Mary, I can't wait to have you become my wife.

I'll wait for your letter.

Yours Lord Sinclair."

Marinette was speechless. What was this? The audacity that sickening creature of the night got. To propose marriage to her?

To wed her.