CLAIMING OLIVIA

Rebecca Winkler
NuR Pub
Published in
3 min readAug 14, 2017
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William strolled outside on his stone balcony high above the heather moorland. The full moonrise called to his heartstrings for the woman named Olivia, but the raven’s cry warned. He recalled that a severe beating could have been his fate earlier that day, had he not followed his father’s orders.

Olivia captured his heart with pleading tears that ran down the softest skin while he chained her to the cold and damp rock walls of the manor’s dungeon. His eyes roamed over her supple naked body while his father stood at the top of the stone stairs, arms crossed. William softly wiped her tears dry with the back of his fingers and whispered in her ear. Olivia folded against him for warmth, and he could feel her trembling from the cold. The gates of iron and shackles could not keep his father at bay when he wanted a woman. William would have to act in haste before the drunkard claimed Olivia. Chained to the wall, cuffs around her neck and hands, her body was encased, but not her heart. One last look into her eyes revealed she was strong in will, but not in physical strength. Before returning to his quarters, William cut his eyes at the other men in the room, a warning to not touch her. He secretly sent his valet with strict orders for his carriage to stand ready on the west side.

A commotion downstairs caught his attention. William wandered into the staff’s kitchen and braced himself at the fireplace that was as tall as him, warming himself, barely tolerating the scene, repulsed. The Lord of the Manor stumbled and plopped down onto the bench at the dark wooden table. He sat among the other sots who were loudly singing their drunkenness. They only showed their Lord admiration so they could live another day. A disgraced Lord, by his actions and deeds, would prove to be William’s legacy. Only his birth connected him to the drunkard and cruel bastard, which was his father. He recoiled in disgust.

When the clock struck midnight, the Lord slammed down his mug on the table splattering the ale, and declared his foul intentions toward a certain wench, while the men around the table raised their mugs and laughed. Dirty faces, smiles with rotten and missing teeth cheered him on. The Lord’s expletives regarding Olivia held captive angered William. It was time. Tonight he would release Olivia and himself from hell.

The pounding of the horses’ hooves thundered; the carriage lunged forward when the bit clenched tight against their jaws. They struggled to get in rhythm for the ride. The snap of the driver’s whip was sharp and clear, echoing in the night air. William and Olivia’s life journey began.

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Rebecca Winkler
NuR Pub
Writer for

Author of Romance-Suspense Novels / Writer in NuR Pub and Poets Unlimited on Medium / Memberships: American Academy of Poets and Romance Writers of America/