Deed to Damnation

Heathen

Once again, Henry had his way with her and she had succumbed to what was now her body's natural response to his touch. The encounter had been quick but her climax had been even quicker. Even the burning welts on her back couldn't stop her from crying out in abandon as the wave pleasure crashed down. This time though, she was wearing a simple leather band around her left ring finger when he straightened his clothes, leaving her a quivering mess.
"No socializing for you tonight." Henry informed her. "I'll have food brought up and before you make up your mind about my offer, I suggest you think hard on it. I'm not a conventional husband but maybe even a man like me could save a sinner like you."
She was so astonished at his unexpected proposal that she couldn't even react to his blatant provocation. All she could do was stare at the braided symbol through glassy, green eyes until she heard him shut the door without another word.
The reasonable part of herself wanted to pull the ring off and throw it at the closed door but she didn't. Instead, she burst into tears. This? This is what her life had come to? Her thoughts were bitter and yet there was a shocking feeling of exhilaration accompanying them. Could becoming a true and honest wife to the man who took her virtue restore some of her soul?
She knew that Henry and probably anyone that was affiliated with him would laugh at her religious beliefs. They had no idea of how stained she really was because they were stained too. The only difference was they didn't care. Henry Delarue was perhaps the most blackened of them all and offered no apologies of how he lived his life. She was rather envious of that trait but she highly doubted he had a soul to save anyway. Still, he had offered to soothe hers by taking her hand in marriage.
What would it be like to be his wife? Would he really honor and cherish her? Or would it be exactly like now? He hadn't demanded it of her. The choice was ultimately hers but he had also made no bones about keeping her as his personal whore regardless of what decision she made.

By the time her dinner arrived, Ireland had no appetite. She had cried and prayed for help with an answer to his proposal but none came. Apparently, the good lord didn't see fit to hear her although she didn't know why she expected any aid at all.
A light tapping at the door startled her and she quickly wiped her eyes of any tears. It wasn't Henry. He never knocked at all.
"Come in." She sniffled, pulling the blanket around her.
He had left her only dress in tatters once again.
It was Missy wearing a beaming smile. It made Ireland want to start sobbing all over.  It didn't make things any better when she scurried across the room like an excited child, a shrill squeal escaping her. She grabbed Ireland's wrists and shook them joyfully.
"Henry told me!" She gasped. "I'm the only one so far!"
The girl snatched Ireland's ring finger to look at the leather band.
"Stunning." Ireland said dully.
"Oh! Miss Ireland!" She said, her face changing to one of dismay. "Mr. Henry giving a marriage proposal is not something anyone thought would happen! I told you before, I ain't never seen Henry have so much patience with a woman before. He's always been so restless."
He had to be patient with her? That statement was ridiculous. What planet did this girl come from, Ireland wondered. She couldn't hide the expression of shock.
"He was patient with me?" She snapped.
"Well, maybe patient isn't the best word." Missy conceded. "But I know Mr. Henry. He takes his time with you. That stunt you pulled the other night? Any other woman and he would have let those cowboys buy you and use you till they had their fill. What you did was a betrayal in his eyes but all you got was punished and he did it himself. I didn't realize how smitten he was until now though."
"Are you trying to tell me this is the way he shows love?" Ireland barked. "Punishing me and defiling me whenever he pleases? Making me a maid and a cook for him and his goons? I don't know what love is but it's not that!"
Missy sighed. She didn't know how Henry showed love in reality. For years she had sought it but he never gave it to her, not fully. Yes, he protected her, fed and clothed her and made sure she had her own money saved for when she would marry or leave her occupation but he never looked at her the way he looked at this woman.
"Well," Missy continued. "it already sounds like you feel you've hit rock bottom so what's the difference then? You'll have a title at least, a very notorious one at that!"
"I don't want to be the wife of a gangster." Ireland protested. "I don't want to be linked to a murd.."
She stopped in mid sentence and stared at Missy's perplexed face.
"What did you say?"
"I said, at least you would have a title and not just be another piece of property. Well, sort of. Everyone knows a wife belongs to her husband." Missy answered.
Ireland didn't get another word out. Missy grabbed her hand.
"I'll tell you what. I'm gonna go get Valentina." She announced. "She's the only married girl among us."
Ireland's eyes grew big.
"Married!?" She exclaimed. "How can a married woman do..do..do what you do?"
The question was returned with a shy but bright smile.
"Oh, Miss Ireland. How many times do I have to tell you? It ain't what you think." She replied, getting up from the bed. "You sit tight and if she ain't busy with a customer, I'll send her up."
The door closed and Ireland sipped on the wine that was brought with her dinner. She hoped it would calm her nerves. Imagine! A married woman being a whore? How can that be? What kind of husband would condone such a thing? There were so many questions and she didn't have long to wait for the answers because Valentina swept into the room like the enchantress she was, a whirl of crinolines and black silk. She took a seat next to Ireland and didn't even react as green eyes swept her from head to toe.
"You have questions, no?" She asked, folding her hands in the lap of her full skirt.
She was a beautiful woman of Mexican descent with long, flowing black hair and eyes just as dark as her tresses. Ireland had seen her the first night Henry had brought her to the card game and then again when she had spied from top of the staircase. Despite her dramatic appearance, she was always reserved. She had been choosy with her clients, only entertaining the most well dressed men and did not allow being groped in the parlor.
"Cat got your tongue, senorita?" She questioned. "Don't be afraid."
"I'm not afraid." Ireland snipped.
Valentina let out a lilting laugh, her onyx eyes shining beneath long, dark lashes.
"But you are." She countered. "Not only are you a frightened little girl in a woman's body, you're tonto. That means stupid, senorita."
"How dare you!" Ireland gasped, popping from the bed and balling her little fist up at her sides. "I'd rather be stupid than be a whore and an unfaithful wife!"
Valentina only laughed again, patting the bed beside her.
"While I can't stop you from being afraid, I can cure your ignorance, si?" She said calmly. "Sit."
Ireland was outraged but she gathered her senses and sat reluctantly. In truth, she did feel stupid sitting with a woman dressed in such finery while she clung to a blanket.
"You are to marry Senor Henry?" She inquired.
"I don't want to. I mean, how can I?" Ireland responded.
The edge inside had dulled, leaving nothing but numbness.
"The question should be, why can't you?"
Valentina wore a sly smile. This time it was she that eyed Ireland, inspecting her like a jeweler would inspect a gem.
"You should. You're very beautiful but not cut out for this life you are choosing." She informed her.
"I most certainly did not have a choice in this." Ireland quipped.
"Ah, but now one is given!"
Valentina's voice held excitement, as if that exclamation had solved the problem right there.
"Don't you see? You will be a wife and a wife has certain entitlements." She grinned knowingly. "My Pedro is a rancher and he owns much land and a two head of cattle. It's not too much, no? But he is building it up and guess what? Half belongs to me!"
Valentina looked so triumphant as she said those words, white teeth beaming under red lip rouge.
Ireland looked at her skeptically.
"I don't believe you." She said, narrowing her eyes suspiciously. "You're trying to trick me. Did he send you up here? Why would you be here if you own a ranch?"
Valentina let out a sigh, a cross between exasperation and pity. She smirked.
"I have no reason to lie to you, mi amor. You can do as you please." She said, standing and straightening her shining black skirt. "And if you must know, my husband is all well and good with my choices. I'm quite devoted to him in heart and besides he knows we will grow old and wealthy together. What will you have?"
Ireland was dumbfounded at the woman's cool demeanor and casual explanations.
"I have my dignity!" Was the only thing she could muster.
"And I have mine." Valentina retorted. "And I will still have my husband and my wealth along with it while you get to be nothing but the result of a lost card game. You think about this, chica. There are worse things than marrying a rich man with the looks of Henry Delarue. I can assure you of that. Si, there are much worse things than that."
And with that, Valentina left in a flash of boa feathers and a cloud of perfume leaving Ireland with a lot of information to process. It was as if her prayers had been answered after all. Missy had said it first. If she married, she would have a title. Being a Mrs. was much better than what she was now. And then Valentina, informing her of the rights of a wife, rights that she had no idea had even existed. It had to be a sign from the heavens. Could this be the opportunity to not only take a piece of her soul back but her rightful property as well?
She twirled the little band around her finger. All of those things sounded too good to be true. The only obstacle was the most frightening. It was Henry Delarue himself. He was a devil and she had heard about what happens when you strike a deal with one of those. He was a killer. He was a gangster. He did nothing unless there was a profit for him and he would take what he wanted by any means and at any cost. He even warned her outright that he would not be a conventional husband although she wasn't sure what that meant. And what would he expect of her, she wondered. He demanded compliance and if she didn't meet his expectations there were always punishments that almost always culminated in his taking control of her senses and bringing her release that she never thought possible. In those moments, she couldn't get enough of his touch and taste. Yet, she despised everything he stood for. It was proof that even the most beautiful of things could carry a hideous darkness inside.