**At least there was a few moments of relative calm between them when she wisely chose to explore the kitchen and basement areas. It mattered little to him, if he were honest, whether they had enough food. He knew enough of hunting to take a weapon and stalk a beast that had taken refuge from the cold – besides, if nothing else, they had both eaten at least a little at the wedding. True, it was mainly on the insistence of both their parents – but it was enough to see them through until tomorrow. Her knowledge of cooking would surprise him – part of his mother's presence tomorrow was to teach her how to oversee a houseful of servants and slaves. Flavia was to ensure that the mansion ran like a well-oiled machine – disciplining and dealing with the staff as necessary. She wasn't expected to know the finer points of preparing food and stocking a cellar. Then again, perhaps Rasul's skill with weapons would surprise her as well...**
**n the fleeting, darkening light before the storm truly set in; Rasul was at least able to survey the view from his place at the living room window – here were tool sheds out there, left ajar for whatever servant their parents had employed to tend to ornate gardens and grounds. On their journey, he knew that part of the land and forest around them was theirs to hunt and set animals to graze on. This place would eventually be quite self-sufficient. If they were a normal couple, they could well be quite happy here... but it was doubtful that day would ever come...**
**He only half-listened as she spoke to herself about the kitchen and the supplies within. Personally, his thoughts had managed to serenely focus on the oncoming storm – by the look of it, it would remain above them for some considerable time. Such a fact didn't bother him... he was keen on such dreadful weather. It provided an excuse to remain indoors and not have to concern himself with the social obligations his overly extroverted parents often pressured their whole family into. This quick-fire marriage seemed just another way to further their social circle and secure the future of their prosperity...**
**She was back in the room with him now, reacting to the words he had left her with – the insults regarding her school, her studies, even her family... she was barrelling retorts back at him with a ferocity he had never seen in a noble young lady before. She had some fire to her, that was definite – and, to her credit, he didn't necessarily consider that a bad thing. His gaze, though, remained quite fixed to the downpour outside.**
**His expression remained unreadable, unchanging – she was allowed the opportunity to rant at him. Usually, he would have struck out should any other woman dare speak to him like this... but his sharp mind was quite aware that both his parents might well visit – and he couldn't have his new bride injured when they did. He would only be met with difficult questions and accusatory glares from the girl herself. However, each insult was stored away – she would pay for every single remark. Every single one.**
**Once she finally delivered her final verbal blow – the insult that he had married her father rather than her, a vague smile was allowed – an indication that he had listened to her and had been paying attention. He finally turned away from the window, allowing his arms to fold at his chest as he studied her closer; leaning a little closer as he did, as if relishing the hatred in her eyes...**
"Perhaps I should ask your father how he controls your mother. I have a feeling he'd be interested in knowing the sort of unladylike habits his daughter has picked up..."
**He turned then, leaving her in his wake to dwell on his words. There had been a definite threat to his parting remark – something quite unsavoury and sinister. Even as the vase was hurled after him, smashing on the floor and sending sharp little shards skidding off in all directions on the well-polished floor, he offered no reaction. Once she was fully in his grip, she would soon learn and forget that rebellious little streak. His father had been wrong on one count – it seemed that the Bathory girl was not a well-refined, sweet, innocent little creature... she had a will all of her own. A will that was to be crushed.**
**Was it natural to be so delighted to be away from your new wife after less than a day in her company? It couldn't be. His own parents had delighted in telling him and his brothers all about their own wedding; how they had been scared at first... but had then relaxed into each other's company and found that they belonged together. True, there was no way he thought the same would happen on his wedding day – Rasul had an independent streak that was difficult to deny. He had expected his future wife to be a demure, shy little woman who dared not even raise her voice at him – let alone hurl ornaments.**
**She would learn...**
**He had found his own room and closed the door firmly behind him. The room was huge and grand... clearly the master bedroom of the place – the room that they were supposed to share somewhere down the line. No... that was not going to happen – not permanently anyway. This room was his and she could claim another. Perhaps tomorrow, he would claim a handful of rooms for his own purposes. He would need an office and a room to entertain prospective businessmen in...**
**His mind wandered around plans for this place as he explored the storm-darkened room. It was furnished – the bed huge and grand, likely a wedding gift from some rich acquaintance. A writing desk occupied one corner of the room, together with a beautiful oaken chair. A wardrobe, considerably taller than his own 6ft form, dominated the corner and an empty basin stood next to it. When the servants were in place, this would be filled each morning with clean water for him to wash in. Yet... aside these beautiful, grand pieces... the details were missing. The bed had no sheets or blankets – these were folded neatly at the end of the bed; left there for a servant to prepare tonight. Although he didn't bother to look, he knew that his clothes would not inhabit the wardrobe – his mother had assured him that she would bring his possessions with her when she came to stay.**
**The storm had, in that respect, caused a hindrance. There was a vague irritation that he was stuck here with a deluded, girl – and with nothing to occupy his time. Typical of his luck – and an irritating end to a dreadful day. A hand swept up to tousle through his usually well-kept hair, aggravating it into boyish, ebony spikes...**
**There were footsteps coming from down the corridor and, before the knock at his door even came; he had expected it to be her. Outside, the thunder was picking up; an occasional bolt of lightning splitting the sky in half aggressively. He opened the door, just as another blast of sheet lightning painted his room in ethereal-blue. Bathed in the powerful, fleeting light; she looked no less frantic. There was a look of mild amusement, as he tilted his head to one side and lent up against the doorframe...**
"Did you lose your way to the stable?"
