"You disgraceful woman," Cecilia said, put off by Ophelia's gaze. "You'll know your place in this family soon. Strip her down and prepare her for the bridal chamber."
Ophelia stood still as maids came forward to prepare her for what she heard would be a long, painful night.
Ophelia was unfortunate to overhear the maids talking about how her husband, who was far larger than she was, would beat her if she didn't behave.
Cecilia gasped, disgusted by the sight of the naked woman before her. "What a ghastly sight," she commented on the bruises. "What have they given us?"
In a heated fit, Cecilia stormed out of the room to find one of the Valthorns.
Ophelia remained still as the maids did their best to get her dressed, but it was hard to make a body filled with old bruises look pretty.
Joel had been kind in his own words to not punish her for her behaviour once the wedding was set, but the old bruises had not healed to hide his deed.
Being dressed by the maids felt like an eternity, and Ophelia wished it would go on longer, but she was soon led to the bridal chamber.
"Poor girl," the maids whispered.
Ophelia entered the room with her head held high, but she was nervous inside. There wasn't a single talk her mother gave her about this night. No advice on how to make it easier for herself.
But like everything else Ophelia faced in her life, she would endure this night and hope tomorrow would bring better news.
It wasn't long before the doors opened and Dante walked in with a robe, which did nothing to hide his chest. He was a muscular man, just as the rumours said.
Ophelia looked down at the floor.
The doors closed, and with them closing, the dreaded night started.
Dante walked to the small table with drinks set out for them. He picked out a bottle of rum and started to pour a glass for himself.
"Take off your clothes. You won't need them soon enough," Dante said, his back turned to Ophelia.
Ophelia did as she was told to, much to Dante's surprise.
Dante expected tears or resistance.
"Do you need something strong to help you, or is this something you dreamt of?" Dante asked, taking a sip of the rum.
There were whispers of Ophelia being in love with him. She was sadly mistaken if she thought her love would be returned.
"I don't need a drink," Ophelia replied, hugging her body.
Despite the fire lit to offer warmth, Ophelia was cold. Along with the coldness, she was tired.
Dante drank all of the rum he poured.
While Ophelia didn't need rum to motivate her, he did.
Dante set the glass down and turned to face Ophelia.
The room was dim, but Dante could still make out what his mother complained about.
Dante closed the gap between them and moved Ophelia's hair over her shoulder. "You're damaged," he said, his right hand resting on her neck.
This wasn't what the Valthorns promised the Hastings.
Ophelia readied herself for a blow since she wasn't what Dante wanted, but it didn't come. Still, she didn't let her guard down.
"Lie down. I shall make this quick," said Dante.
Ophelia walked over to the large bed where flower petals lay.
It was a romantic sight not suited for the couple in the room.
Ophelia laid on the bed and waited for the long night to start and hopefully soon be over with.
The words of the maids echoed in her mind again of how she could be beaten if she didn't go along with his demands, no matter how awful, cruel, or intrusive they might be.
Dante's upper body soon blocked Ophelia's view of the ceiling. He wore the same scowl as he did at the wedding.
"Do not look at me," Dante said, as her gaze only made him hate the moment more.
Ophelia was grateful for the order since she didn't want to see Dante. She closed her eyes and turned her head to the right. Her hands gripped the soft blankets beneath her.
It was the first time in years she had a bed so comfortable. A room so grand with more space than she needed.
It was unfortunate that Ophelia earned the right to such a room after being forced to marry the man who had touched her body now. Before then, Ophelia was placed in the servant quarters, though her mother was Lord Valthorn's wife.
Ophelia flinched each time Dante's hands touched her body. It was all strange and uncomfortable to her to have a man she had only met today touch her this way.
Not once did Dante attempt to kiss Ophelia.
"No," Ophelia said, her eyes widening when his hand touched her.
Dante's annoyance was evident from his frown. How was the wedding night to end when she kept closing her legs?
"The trouble of planning this wedding and the truce will be all for nought if you do not let me continue," said Dante.
There would be a meeting with both sides of the family in the morning to check the bed. The marriage wouldn't be true until then.
"You will go back to the Valthorns if I walk out of here and you are not bedded."
Ophelia knew a cruel fate awaited her if she ruined the Valthorns' plans. A far worse fate would also befall her sick brother.
Ophelia relaxed her body so Dante could do as he wished.
The sooner it was over, the better.
Ophelia closed her eyes when his hands touched her thigh. Everything about this moment left her with emotions she couldn't explain. She didn't like any of it.
Was this what every woman faced?
Ophelia bit her lip, hiding her displeasure with the wedding night. Why didn't anyone warn her that it would be like this?
Dante noticed her restraint, but he was also forced to go through with this night.
As long as they gave both families what they wanted tonight, then there would be some freedom in the morning.
Dante's touch was warm, yet it was unpleasant as he touched her where no one else had.
Ophelia covered her mouth with her hand, so her displeasure wouldn't be heard.
Ophelia opened her eyes, wanting to see if Dante also somehow shared the pain. Her eyes widened at the change in colour in Dante's eyes.
"What," Ophelia softly spoke, her voice caught in her throat.
With one blink, Dante's eyes were normal, as though it was Ophelia's eyes playing tricks on her.