Harry
As Harry stood in the line of girls in the hall, she made sure to keep her head high and her eyes defiant. She had worn her most vibrant dress, a navy and bright blue gown, determined not to be picked. She stood out like a sore thumb in the the line of dull, brown and green dresses. Her arms were bare, her hands in finger less gloves, and there was a slit up one side of her leg showing off her knee-high boots. The exact opposite of what you were supposed to wear. If you wanted to be chosen, your demeanour and clothes should scream ‘Submissive’. Harry’s screamed ‘Fuck Off’.
Mrs Denu walked up and down the line of girls, correcting their clothes, fixing their makeup. Harry didn’t have any makeup to fix and no amount of arrangement would fix her dress.
“Now girls,” Denu said, standing in front of them, her heels clacking on the floor. “When the suitor arrives, you are to keep your heads down, eyes on the floor. You do not, under any circumstances, look him in the eye. You must show that you know your place. You will do everything that he asks of you without hesitation. When he arrives, you will all curtsy like we practised. He asked specifically for you seven, because of your beauty. Do not disappoint him.”
After only a few more minutes of fuss, Harry heard the door open and all the other six, with their heads downcast and their lashes lowered, curtsied with grace and beauty. Harry almost fell on her ass trying to curtsy, then stood with her head bowed only slightly, and her eyes staring at where the floor met the wall on the other side of the hall. She had caught a glimpse of the man while trying not to fall, and that idiotic part of her brain had started acting up.
He’s so hot, it said.
Shut up, Harry replied.
With only a glimpse to go on, she only saw a flash of dark auburn hair and a large frame walking gracefully toward the line of girls. It was still enough to make her stupid libido get going.
Warren
As Warren walked into the hall, being greeted by a line of perfectly curtsying girls, he almost rolled his eyes until he saw the girl at the end of the row. Her navy covered frame almost falling over clumsily as she attempted a half-assed curtsy. Unlike the other girls, she wore dark, bold colours. Her hair was just a messy plait that still seemed to have a twig in it. Like all the others, she had tan skin and dark hair, and quite a beautiful face. He turned away from the girls for a moment and gripped his mother’s arm, guiding her away from the line.
“Do you not like them?” she asked.
“Mama, I said I didn’t have a type. I don’t want a woman just because she fits your standard of beauty.”
She scowled. “You don’t want any woman, regardless of her looks. If you won’t be picky, then I will. I don’t want just any ugly girl being the next Mrs Denu. We have status. I will not let you ruin it by choosing some improper unattractive harlot!”
I rolled my eyes and let go of her, turning back to the girls. All of them were my age I knew, you chose your bride at 17. But some of them barely looked 14. I supposed looking youthful was a feature but I didn’t want people thinking she was my younger sister. I walked up the line, skipping past all the ones who looked too young. They were all staring downcast submissively, but he couldn’t see any actual submission there, just hope. These girls didn’t want a relationship or a dominant. they wanted money and status to live as a gossipy housewife. The last thing he wanted was a gossipy housewife.
He reached the end of the line, stopping next to the girl in navy. His mother had been introducing the girls as he passed them but he could tell she reserved a special dislike for this girl. “Harriet Burman,” she said with disdain, and he saw Harriet glare at her under lowered lashes. Point to Harriet, anyone who could glare at his mother like that, deserved a little credit. The girl was beautiful, no doubt. Flawless skin, full lips, and the figure of a model. Her bare arms revealed a few scratches and three scars across her left arm that looked suspiciously like bear claws, but that only made her more attractive.
Warren didn’t want a wife. But his mother pressured him into it, using his dying father as leverage. “Don’t you want to get married before your father passes on?” she would say. Warren was quite content living as a bachelor and going to the club to find woman like him. His needs were…particular. Harriet seemed like she could take care of herself. And if there was one thing this girl did not seem to want, it was to become his wife, meaning she was not going to become a gossipy housewife. If he married her, she could fend for herself. She wouldn’t need him doting after her, or buying her everything she wanted. His mother would have a daughter-in-law, and he could carry on with his life without a needy woman hanging of his arm.
He placed his hand under her chin and raised it to eye-level, which hadn’t been far to go, and looked deep into her dark brown eyes. She stared back in defiance. His thumb rubbed her cheek and for a moment she melted into the caress, then remembered she was supposed to be defiant and readjusted her composure. Independent and naturally submissive.
“So Harriet,” he said. “Wh-“
She cut him off. “It’s Harry. Harriet’s a stuffy name for a stuck-up woman.”
He chuckled a little. Harry would probably be amused to know his seething mother’s name was Harriet Denu. “So Harry, do you mind if I take the twig from your hair?” he asked.
“If you like, I wasn’t bothered to on the way over.”
He smiled as he plucked the branch from her braid and dropped it on the ground. “I was wondering Harry, where you got those scars. Proper ladies don’t have blemished skin, no less flaunt it.”
He saw her gaze harden. “I’m not proper nor a lady. I killed a bear and I wear my scars proudly.”
Good God this woman was hot. Independent, hated his mother, can kill a bear and naturally submissive. Even if he never explored that last part about her. She was the one he wanted. He, at the very least, wanted his wife to be a friend. And any woman who can kill a bear is a friend of his.
He released her chin and thought he saw a flash of disappointment in her face, before turning and walking from the hall, his mother trailing after him.
Harry
That stupid, stuck up, prick! she thought to herself as she shoved clothes into a backpack. She did everything in her power to be the worst possible candidate, and he still picked her. It didn’t help that he was even hotter than when her imagination had filled in the blanks. Long auburn hair tied back from his face, tall and strong with a chiselled jawline. He was at least a foot taller than her, and with a body that looked like it could manhandle her like a rag doll. And that idiotic part of her brain wanted him to. When he had rubbed her cheek she had wanted to melt into his hand.
But luckily, the rational part of her brain was the one packing. She was leaving, walking out into the woods and never coming back. There was no way she was going to marry a man she didn’t know just because he had a ‘right’ to chose her. She had just about finished shoving the contents of her drawers into the bag when there was a knock at the door.
No-one was was home. Her brother had chosen his bride and moved out ages ago, and her sister had been chosen around the same time. Her mother was dead and her father was off negotiating the marriage with Mrs Denu. She turned slowly, a hunting knife in her hand, and almost dropped the knife in shock when she saw who it was. Tall, dark, handsome and prick was standing in her open doorway. It was then that she realised she didn’t even know his name. It was common curtesy to use someone’s name when telling them to fuck off.
“You’re running away?” he asked. Surprisingly, there wasn’t a hint of disappointment or anger, it was simply a neutral question.
“Maybe because I don’t want to marry a stranger just because of a stupid law invented centuries ago, I’ve decided to pursue other options,” she replied, resuming packing and sheathing her knife
“Believe me,” he said, stepping into the room. “I don’t want to marry a stranger because of a stupid law invented centuries ago either. That’s why I chose you.”
She faltered. Why wouldn’t he want to have his pick off any woman in the community? “Why would you choose the one person who would hate to be your wife if you didn’t want a bride in the first place. why not just stay single.”
“Well my mother wouldn’t have been to happy about that, and my father wants to see me marry before he dies, which will be soon. I chose you because you would be fine by yourself. I don’t want a wife, you don’t want a husband, so why not appease our families and pretend we care, then go home and just be roommates?”
“How do I know you aren’t lying, just manipulating me into marrying you so that you can have your way with me?”
Harry saw a flash of anger before he came further into the room, crowding her until her back was against the wall and he was towering over her. Her libido chose this moment to go into overdrive.
“Do I look like I would lie to you little girl?” he asked, his voice low and gruff.
“No sir,” she said, the ‘sir’ just slipping out. She wanted to point out that she was by no means a little girl, 5’10 and the martial arts champion of the town, but right now, compared to the giant of a man in front of her, she felt little.
He grunted, then stepped back. “Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to scare you.” He turned back to the door. “Think about my offer. I would rather a wife who can kill a bear than a quiet needy mouse trailing after me.”
With that, he left the room and she heard the front door swing shut as he exited the house. Only then did she let out the breath she’d been holding in. He thought back to what he’d said about scaring her, but right now, her heavy breathing and rapidly beating heart were caused by something a little different from fear. She went back to packing, thinking hard about her offer. the logical side of her brain was telling her to stick to the plan, but after that last encounter, the idiotic part had taken a stronger hold.
She didn’t even know what she was going to do until she reached his car and realised that the decision had been made.