The Unchaste

Judas' Kiss

It was a snake congealed in long, dew drenched grass.

Lord Richard’s saying that_ that he was sentimental about her and had cared for her_ it was the same nature of sweet deceit that led the divines to fall. This man was so full of craftiness, pretenses and alterations. So illusory and never to be trusted. Delilah was defeated by the fact that he had fooled her so easily over so little.

As if Judas Iscariot kissed Christ’s cheek in garden of Gethsemane, and Delilah knew that the betrayal was next to come.

“But even Judas’ had a price.” She whispered jadedly, looking straight ahead. “What is yours, my lord? What are you forecasting next?”

“I am not Judas, Miss Eves.” The man beside her answered. “I am not a pawn to hypocrisy. I never entrusted to you my loyalty that you think I betrayed you.”

She left her chair with a force and this time he did not stop her. The furniture toppled backward on the floor, ending on the carpet with a thud.

“Way to go, your Grace.” Delilah laughed scornfully. “You are not a pawn of treachery indeed; you are treachery manifested. To think I ever confided in you brings me such shame.”

He disregarded her, calmly that he stood up and straightened the chair back up from the carpet with his single hand. This discount led Delilah from being livid to now burning like an inferno.

She hissed. “Am I some private joke to you Lord Richard?”

“Hardly.” He straightened and sighed uncomplainingly. “I found nothing hilarious about you since the day I saw you here. You are dry as a bone, Miss Eves. I wonder why? I wonder who hurt you so meanly?”

Delilah tilted her head. “Before your Grace, you mean?”

“I just clarified.” His cerulean gaze went tapered frostily. “It was compulsive. I didn’t mean to harm you. You were either partially wounded or wholly dead?”

“And you assume I am talking about this?” She carelessly gestured at her bandaged wrist. “Oh the simple man that you are!”

“What precisely are you talking about?” He demanded just as coldly.

“Is there even a count?” She laughed again. “Philip and George and my family. Then, Wolfbridge. Emily. Tiff_” Delilah paused and checked her words. “Marian! Yes, her. Everything. You just need to see.”

A confused frown arched his brow. “Who is Marian?”

“That_ that nun at Wolfbridge.” Delilah swallowed. The one who kissed you!

“I do not exactly identify how I have offended you with Marian, Miss Eves, considering how I did not even recognize the name.” He shook his head distractedly. “But let’s get one thing straight. I didn’t kill Philip. You will refrain from using that phrase ever again.”

A headache distilling faintly along her skull, Delilah closed her wetting eyes and hissed. “I might have blindly commissioned you my trust once, but I am not blind, my lord. I have eyes that can perceive simple channel of events at least.”

“Then perceive all you desire but perceive it precise, Miss Eves, I warn you.” His deliberate, dangerous, approaching steps led her to trip up, diffidently, backward. “Diminutive learning is always dangerous. You saw some and you concluded whole. How dare you, Delilah, being so prejudiced! Who gave you the right to make such assumptions?

Delilah was exhausted enough to lose patience at the way he was trying to conduit the culpability back on her. “Your Grace.” She hissed. “I am not that devoid of intelligence.”