[Calann]: 135.Short stories.Retribution

Entry for Writing For the Love of It. 500 words.
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"Riddle me this, milord..."

He felt something cold and hard being set on his stomach. With startled eyes he looked down at the young girl whose face was graced with a breathtaking twist of expressive lips he had been kissing just moments earlier. Strays of her brown hair, floating around in a warm wind, tickled his cheeks and nose, but he hardly took notice. His mind was racing. Could he take hold of the revolver? Could he---?

"Tsk. You are not paying attention, dear sir. Humour me," she said in a sing-song voice, waiting for him to nod warily before she continued. Her deep brown eyes pierced him full of holes. Oh, if looks could kill!
"So, milord, riddle me this. What are the consequences of hurting a Rocheford lady's sister in such an unspeakable way?"

Her voice dripped honey, but that gaze, it was poisonous. He froze. Then, very slowly, very deliberately, he took his hands back to himself from where they had been upon her body. There was no touching this woman, not when all the hatred inside her was directed at you.

Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, and Rochefort women were most dangerous of them all. He wondered how he could not have seen this, how he could not have made the connection. There were only so many noble houses whose children were born with hair in such luxurious shades of strawberry blonde. No, there were actually no other noble houses around with those unique childhood colours. He shivered, wind suddenly turning cool and more insistent, swaying the long grass around them. Definitely not a favourable position to be in, he thought, just a slightest bit amused.

"I am surprised," she noted with a wry grin. "I would have expected you to deny, or try to distract me with your... charming demeanour. But it seems you know and remember exactly what I mean, do you not, dear sir Werchast?" Silence. "I thought it was so. Naturally you understand what need be done."

There was nothing to be said. Lying would be of little use, as she could easily tap into his thoughts, a notion that always unsettled him. He did understand, and he definitely did remember. Lord Werchast had mortally wounded little miss Anna Rochefort, and now it was time for payback.

"I would have loved you." A slender hand caressed his cheek, and he lowered his head again, kissing her with such a passion that it made them tingle. He would take this punishment, and let memories flood his mind.

Middle of winter. Cold, gray, the atmosphere made more oppressing by city watchmen standing at every corner with their white dragon steeds. A sweet, young girl with strawberry blonde hair, a dazzling smile, and the most tempestuous nature anyone had ever encountered. Foolish urges and too little understanding. It might as well have been murder, the way she suffered, afterwards.

He sighed as the weapon went off. Finality had such a sweet taste.