Days went by like a blur. Bianca painfully eased into her daily routine of morning sicknesses, mood swings, loss of appetite, and the occasional pain that sliced through the lower part of her abdomen once in a while. She couldn't say she had gotten acquainted with the pain, but she was beginning to learn to live with it, after first noticing it on one of her morning walks through the garden.

It was the only time she got to leave her bedchamber, and to enjoy the cool breeze of nature without bumping into Race or her sister or anyone else. She would rise up from bed —having spent the entire night tossing and turning and barely sleeping— and would wrap a thin scarf around her shoulders, before silently making her way down the stairs and to the garden. She would sit on the bench for several minutes, her face tilted toward the grey sky as she soaked in the morning air. Then, she would rise to her feet and walk through the cobbled aisles of the garden.

The garden had been her mother's. At least that was what her father said. It was one of the few times she remembered him speaking of her mother. When she realized that she would never have a relationship with her step mother and her half sister, she found solace in the garden, and the library. She would walk through the aisles imagining her mother doing the same while admiring the lovely sunflowers, daffodils, and roses. She would imagine her standing by the water fountain and staring at her clear image in the water, the sun shining down on her.

Being in the garden didn't ease the pain in her heart, but it created a form of escape for a few minutes.

She had risen to her feet on one of those mornings —after spending time in the garden— just when the sun was beginning to light up the sky, and was on her way back to her bedchamber, when she felt it.

Hissing in pain, she halted in her tracks and haunched over, her hand clutching her stomach. She stood still for several seconds, breathing through her mouth until the pain passed.

Since then, she experienced the pain more often than she could count. And while she knew it wasn't normal, she didn't dare mention it to anyone. For some reason, she didn't mention her pregnancy to anyone. Speaking of that pain would warrant summoning a physician, and having a Physician examine her would inevitably lead to the exposure of the news of her pregnancy.

She shook her head and took a sip of her tea; let the pregnancy announce itself. She smacked her lips, detesting the taste of the tea in her mouth; it tasted like dust. But she couldn't keep rejecting food, she was already starting to lose weight. She reached for a cookie and took a bite, chewing it slowly before forcing it down her throat.

There was a knock on the door. She placed the half eaten cookie back in the tray and gave the command to enter.

"My lady." A maid appeared at the door. "Lady Carla wanted to..."

She shook her head. "I do not wish to be disturbed. Here, take this away." She motioned to the full tray of sweets.

The maid stared down at the tray, a small frown creasing her young face. Certainly, she was concerned for her mistress, for Bianca always sent her food back either untouched or barely touched. But rather than question Bianca, she nodded and made her way into the room. Taking hold of the edges of the tray, she straightened and walked out of the room.

Carla must have grown weary of trying to visit with Bianca and getting rejected, for she no longer sent word requesting audience with Bianca. And as the days progressed, the visitor cards dwindled, and the maids showed up to her room only when they were summoned. Since she barely summoned them, she barely saw them.

She didn't see Race either. It seemed to her that he had disappeared, or was simply pleased with her absence. Perhaps her absence gave him the freedom he needed to be with her sister. Perhaps they spent their mornings together. Perhaps they ate lunch and engaged in Carla's favorite past time —gossiping— together. Their evenings were probably spent eating a pleasant dinner, and retiring to their bed of sin together. Certainly Race found pleasure in her sister's body. Surely he found satisfaction in her lips, in the warmth of her body pressed to his, in the rustling of sheets, and the sounds of pleasure emanating from her lips while they engaged in their wicked act.

And she? She was left to sit here, trapped. Trapped in a marriage to a man whose intent was to use her to bear his children. Hadn't he already succeeded anyway? Wasn't she already pregnant? It was most likely the first of many pregnancies to come for she couldn't avoid Race forever. Surely a time would come when he would remember he was indeed married, and would barge into her room to either force himself on her, or to seduce her. Whatever the case may be, she would be unable to resist him.

She couldn't resist him...

Bianca hated to admit it, but she longed for yet another night of pleasure. She longed for it, and there were times her body ached for it. She knew she could only ignore her desires for so long as well. He would have his way with her, and she would get pregnant again. Then, he would return to her sister until he desires to sire yet another child.

A mere breeder...

It was all she meant to him. Not a wife. Not a companion. Not a lover. A breeder.

The thought angered her. Rising to her feet, she pulled the cord to summon a maid, and began slipping out of her dress even before the maid arrived. She wouldn't stay trapped in this room forever. She wouldn't stay trapped while her husband and sister stabbed her in the back. She wouldn't stay trapped, and watch her life pass away in a blur, her mind losing track of time.

"The pink one." She ordered once the maid arrived her bedchamber and began digging in her trunk for a dress for dinner. Surprise had reflected in the maid's blue eyes at her command.

Bianca took great care in getting ready that day. How long had it been since she trapped herself in her bedchamber? Three weeks? Six weeks all together since she was married to Race. Well, today, she was coming out of hiding.

The maid pulled her hair into an elegant braid, letting two curly ringlets fall to her ears. Powder was applied to her face, and her cheeks were pinched to add color to it. The neckline was low cut, leaving her shoulders and the moulds of her breasts exposed.

She frowned at her image, feeling odd. Perhaps it was too much cleavage? She hadn't worn this dress in a long time, and must have outgrown it. Perhaps it was best if she changed? She shook her head, knowing she didn't have the time to change. Besides, other than the indecency of the dress, she looked gorgeous. The maid had done a wonderful job with her hair and her makeup, and she smelled wonderfully.

She rose to her feet, deciding the soft pink of her dress looked good against her pale skin. The exposure of her breasts and shoulders might have seemed inappropriate, but she was having dinner with her husband and sister —both of them having seen her naked in the past.

Slowly, she made her way down the stairs and to the dining area. She raised a hand to halt the butler who made to go into the room to announce her presence. When he raised a brow, she shook her head in response. She would walk in unannounced. Perhaps she might walk in on her husband and sister kissing? Perhaps then they would feel a little shame for their actions.

Race's head snapped up at the sight of her. He was seated on the head of the table, dressed in a casual white shirt. He might have gotten a hair cut, she realized, her heart skipping at the sight of him as desire racked her body. For a second, she imagined burying her fingers in his hair...

The fork in his hand fell to his plate with a loud clank, and he rose to his feet, his eyes still holding hers.

"Bianca?!" Her head snapped to the side, a frown settling on her face at the sight of her sister seated beside him on his right hand side. "It's so wonderful to have you join us for dinner!" She chirped.

Bianca's feet began leading her forward then, her frown deepening as rage pumped through her veins. Her sister was nothing but a backstabbing pig!

She halted before Carla. "I believe you are in my seat."

Confusion reflected in Carla's eyes for a second... But only for a second. Bianca thought she saw a flicker of amusement in her sister's eyes, before she rose to her feet. Without a word, she made her way past Race —who was still on his feet— her finger drawing a straight line across his shoulder seductively.

Carla knew what she was doing, and so did Bianca; she was passing a bold message to Bianca —Race was hers. While Race stood stiff as she made her way past him, Bianca didn't care. She hated him! She hated both of them!

Dinner was silent. Bianca's fingers trembled as she fought her nausea and her anger. Race didn't wait for dinner to be over before excusing himself. And Bianca, utterly furious, stormed out a few minutes later without a word to her sister.

Anger bubbled in her heart as she sat in bed. Then, her anger gave way to grief. And almost as quickly, grief gave way to self pity and a strong desire to be held... To be held by someone, anyone. She hated Race, but her body longed for him. Seeing him had been all she needed to be set ablaze once more by lust, until she thought it would drive her insane.

She rose to her feet then and snuck out of her room. His room was on the third floor, where the master and mistress's bedchambers were. Because she had chosen to reoccupy her former bedchamber, she hadn't bothered to move into her stepmother's.

Cautiously, she made her way up the stairs, her emotions tumbling over each other. She wanted desperately to be angry, but lust and desire won her over.

She made a fist to pound on the door, but stopped in her track. Reaching for the knob instead, and fully expecting it to be locked, she was surprised when the door gave way before her.

The door gave way to a large parlor, furnished with several comfortable looking, white sofas and couches. A coffee table sat on a lavish gold rug. Heavy gold curtains hung from the wide window and door that led to the veranda.

She turned slowly to her left hand side, spotting the wooden door she knew led to Race's room.

Common sense and decency urged her to turn back, to run back to her room and pull a blanket over her head. But her legs kept moving until she was pushing his room's door open.

The room was even larger than the parlor. She had never been inside the room before. A king sized canopy bed that nearly occupied the entire room, stood in the centre of the room, a lavish brown rug underneath the bed. The white curtains draping from the top of the bed, kept its occupant hidden, but she could see his silhouette through it. Other than the bed, the armoire, dressing table, and reading table were the only furniture in sight.

But they were not her concern. Slowly, she made her way to the bed, and pushed the white curtains aside. Indeed, Race was asleep on the bed. She couldn't see his lower part, but she was his bare chest.

Reaching out, she ran her hand over his chest, a soft sigh escaping her lips as her eyelids pulled close.

Something took hold of her hand as she made to run it over his chest for the second time. Her eyelids snapped open once more, her eyes coming to rest on Race who stared at her with a confused frown on his face.

"Bea?" He breathed, his eyes falling to her chest. She was still clad in her dress from dinner. Slowly, he lifted his eyes back up, and swallowed.

"We are married, but we do not have to endure the unpleasantness." She breathed, the words barely forming on her lips.

"Wh-what do you mean?" His lips trembled.

"I mean it is unpleasant not to share each other's bed." For some reason, she could barely breathe.

Surely she was crazy for coming here! She thought, his eyes shifting down to her neck, before moving back up to her face. She was crazy from throwing herself at him like this.

He reached up, his fingers gently grazing her shoulder. Sighing, she closed her eyes. His fingers moved up her neck, and settled on her jaw, leaving a trail of heat in its path. She felt him move close, and instinctively, she moved in closer. When his lips took claim of hers, she leaned in closer, her dress shifting up to her knees and he leg brushing his bare leg. It was then she realized he was unclad.

Gasping, she tore her eyelids apart and pushed the blanket aside, even as his hands worked to release her body of her dress. Heat warmed her skin at the sight of him. When he tilted her head back once more and claimed her lips, she gave in to the yearning desires of her body.

She fell asleep in his arms, his warm skin pressed to hers, and the scent of his body —the smell of hay, and horses and the soil— drifting into her nostrils.

"Bianca?" She was woken up by a tug on her shoulder.

Moaning in satisfaction, she tore her eyelids apart.

"Bea?" He touched her face. Race? She suddenly remembered their time together last evening, greatly desiring more of it.

She opened her eyes to find him leaning over her, fear written plainly in his eyes.

"Race?" She reached out and pulled him down until she was claiming his lips once more.

"Bea," His hands took hold of her hips as he pulled away. "Are you alright? " He searched her eyes.

She nodded. "Can we..." She licked her lower lip and stared longingly at his lips.

"Bianca," He glanced down briefly, before lifting his eyes up to her once more. "You are bleeding."