Complex Dimensions

by Brenda Murphy

  Millie held up her phone and her e-reader. “I finished with these.” Her fingers brushed over Veronica’s hand as she passed off the items, and Veronica shivered. Chilly. It’s not her. Totally not her. Right. Liar. I’m ridiculous. It’s been too long. Way too long. Be cool. “Thanks. I downloaded a new series of books before I got on the plane and was looking forward to reading the second one tonight.”

  Millie arched a brow. “We’re pretty informal at staff dinner but I’m betting you’ll be more comfortable with clothes.”

  The devilish gleam in her eye had Veronica flushing again. “Yeah. Give me a minute.” Ask her in? No. Think.

  The sparkle in Millie’s eyes and the half smile on her face suggested she could sense Veronica’s indecision about asking her into her room while she changed. “I’ll wait here.” She pulled the door closed with a click.

  Giving me space. Chivalrous. Good woman. Veronica spilled her backpack contents over the bed and found her best pair of jeans and pulled them on over her briefs. One black T-shirt later she was ready to go. She snagged her jacket from the hall tree as she passed and she stepped out on to the landing.

  Millie was at the bottom of the steps. She had changed into a pair of faded jeans, and a dark-green V-neck pullover. The short sleeves were tight across her arms, highlighting her thick triceps, sculpted biceps, and the sharply defined muscles of her forearms. The late evening light backlit Millie’s features. Veronica studied her profile and the fine line of her jaw. Broken nose. More than once. Wonder how? Gives her a rakish look. Millie’s tight shirt also displayed the sweeping curves of her breasts and a stunningly deep cleavage.

  Millie glanced at her and smiled. Veronica missed a step, stumbled forward, and clutched the rail. Damn it. Focus. Falling down the steps is not the way to have her under me. Fuck, where did that come from?

  Millie bounded up the steps between them and stood in front of Veronica, a hand on either rail. She peered into Veronica’s face. “You okay?” She turned forward and presented her arm. “Hold on to me. These steps are dark. I’ll get a light installed.”

  Damn she’s fast. Get it together. Veronica stared at Millie’s thick forearm. She cleared her throat. “Yes. Thanks. I guess I’m still not awake.” Liar. What I get for staring. At least she thinks I’m clumsy instead of a creeper.

  Millie captured Veronica’s hand and settled it on her arm, not waiting for her response.

  She’s ripped. Damn. Veronica fought the urge to squeeze Millie’s forearm and the firm flesh under her palm. She’s being nice. That’s all.

  Millie made sure Veronica navigated the rest of the stairs without incident. When they cleared the last step and were on the graveled drive, Veronica lifted her hand from Millie’s arm. “Thanks. I think I’m good now.” She avoided Millie’s gaze, curled her fingers into her palm, and tried to forget the sensation of Millie’s strong arm under her fingers. She acts like I’m someone special. Does she treat everyone this way? The concern in her voice, like I was special, someone worth protecting.

  “Do we need to see about the horses?” Veronica stopped and inclined her head toward the barn.

  “No. Benita and June helped me. They’re tucked in for the night.”

  Veronica glanced at Millie. “Do you do everything here?”

  Millie laughed. “No. It only seems like it. All the submissives start in the stable before they move on to other jobs in the house. We expect everyone to be able to do what needs to be done unless they’re hired, as you were, for a specific task. Having them work in the stable is a way to assess their temperament.”

  Veronica frowned. “How?”

  “If they get frustrated with the horses, or mistreat them, we end their contract. Martha believes you can tell a lot about a person by the way they treat animals and children.”

  “She’s right.”

  “Aye. About many things.”

  Millie’s eyes took on a faraway look, a thousand-yard stare Veronica wanted to ask about but didn’t.

  THE HOUSE WAS warm, and Veronica peeled out of her light jacket. Millie showed her the mudroom and a hook labeled with her name to hang her coat. She took off her boots and placed them on the mud tray next to the door.

  She pointed at a white-painted door to the left of the coat hooks. “Washroom is through there. You can leave a pair of indoor shoes here, under your hook. Floor’s cold in the winter.” Millie pulled off her shoes and tugged on a pair of loafers. “Hell, it’s cold in the summer too.” She grinned up at Veronica.

  Veronica followed Millie into a large dining room. A long walnut plank table was set for ten. Two chairs at either end and two long benches provided seating. Millie sat and pointed to the bench opposite her. “We don’t have assigned places but leave the ends open. Roxy and Danica are left-handed and hate sitting on the benches.”

  Veronica took a seat directly across from Millie. A curvy woman in a bright white chef’s jacket, open at the neck, approached Millie. A thin collar of black and red leather twisted together graced her neck. A small silver tag with engraving Veronica could not read was centered in the hollow of her throat. She leaned down and kissed Millie on the lips. Veronica studied her fingernails, not wanting to intrude on their display of affection.

  “Veronica, this is Myfanwy.”

  Veronica rose up from the bench to shake Myfanwy’s hand. “My pleasure. Thank you for the muffins. They were the closest thing to heaven I’ve tasted in a long, long time.”

  Myfanwy’s hand was soft and her grip firm, her eyes a warm brown. She met Veronica’s gaze. “Oh, I like your style, but Robin is the one who made those muffins.” She rested her hand on Millie’s shoulder. “I hope you’re hungry, I got a little carried away with dinner tonight. I read through your application, Veronica, but I always like to check in person. You don’t have any allergies?”

  “No. And I’ll eat whatever you’re serving. I’m not a huge fan of lima beans, but other than that, I’m open to anything.”

  Myfanwy opened her mouth to speak but was interrupted by another voice.

  “Are you going to serve the soup, or should I?” A thin woman with a mop of curly blonde hair and large blue eyes pushed through the swinging door leading to the kitchen. She bustled into the room and placed a large platter of sliced bread in the center of the table. She glanced at Veronica, blushed, and backed away. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

  Myfanwy inclined her head toward Veronica. “Robin, come meet Veronica, the new stable manager. She’s in love with your muffins. I’ll get the soup.”

  “Hello,” Robin mumbled as she bobbed her head at Veronica, avoiding eye contact before she scurried from the room, not waiting for Veronica to reply.

  What the hell? Am I so scary? Veronica twisted the edge of her napkin in her hands.

  Millie reached across the table and touched the back of Veronica’s hand, drawing her attention. “Robin’s a bit skittish. She’s been through it.” She held Veronica’s gaze. Her expression said more than her words could about Robin’s fearful exit. Distracted by Millie’s eyes, Veronica studied her face, enjoying the moment far more than she should. Those gold flecks in her eyes, like tigereye gems. So unique. And beguiling. Her eyes are exquisite. And her lush mouth. Millie’s mouth pulled into a cocky grin as if she could read Veronica’s mind.

  “Hey, Millie, she doesn’t seem like your type. Give the rest of us a chance.”

  Veronica eyed the bleached-blonde woman who entered and sat in the chair at the head of the table. She wore a pale-blue diaphanous peignoir, and a faded brown leather collar with a worn brass tag.

  “Roxy, Veronica, Veronica, Roxy. Chief troublemaker, and submissive to the queen.”

  Roxy laughed. “Elaine would like that you referred to her as such.” She smiled at Veronica and extended her hand. “And I’m a free agent.”

  “Nice to meet you.” Veronica shook her hand and forced herself to look into Roxy’s eyes instead of her voluptuous body on display under the shee
r material of her gown.

  The rest of the house staff arrived and arranged themselves on the benches, most of them welcoming, in some cases flirty, all of them wearing collars with brass tags and a few of them not much else.

  I’ll never remember all their names. A trickle of sweat ran down between Veronica’s shoulder blades, and she focused on her meal. No matter how much she had told herself she would be fine in a house full of women whose purpose was to serve other women in whatever capacity they wanted, she was overwhelmed. And charmed. Every woman who entered made a point to shake her hand and welcome her with genuine smiles. They’re people. Like me. Even if they’re half dressed. She flushed when she thought of her whore comment to Millie. Ugh. I can’t believe I used that word. How many times have I used it like a weapon? Guilt spread over her like a heavy blanket. So ignorant. Never again.

  The women chatted with one another, occasionally switching to Spanish or Italian as they laughed and talked. Veronica was happy she had paid attention in Spanish class but didn’t reveal she could understand them, preferring to listen to their discussions rather than participate. Myfanwy had joined them, sitting next to Millie on the bench opposite Veronica. She listened as Millie spoke quietly to Myfanwy in a language Veronica had never heard and could not even begin to imagine what it was. Casual touches and intimate eye contact passed between Millie and Myfanwy, and Veronica did her best not to stare. The disc on Myfanwy’s collar caught the light, and Veronica made out a script “M” engraved on the disc. They’re lovers. She’s hers. Should’ve known she’d be with someone.

  Myfanwy returned to the kitchen. A few minutes later, she pushed through the door with a large tureen of soup. She placed it in the middle of the table and served each of them. The soup was a colorful mix of vegetables, lentils, and spicy sausage. Veronica savored a spoonful of the soup, appreciating the complex mix of spices. I won’t starve here. So good. She was disappointed when Myfanwy left with the remains of the soup and regretted not asking for seconds. She settled for another slice of the bread and mopped up the dregs of the soup in her bowl.

  The small hairs on Veronica’s arms stood up, and she sensed someone staring at her. She glanced up and into the darkest brown eyes she had ever seen. The woman’s hair was slicked back tight against her head, the smile on her face predatory. She rested her hand on her narrow waist, her large breasts marginally contained by the dark-green corset she wore. “I’m Ashley.” The latecomer sat down next to Millie and pushed Myfanwy’s place setting to the side.

  Oblivious to Millie’s sharp glare, she kept her gaze fixed on Veronica’s face as she extended her hand. Her blood-red nail polish matched the lipstick she was wearing. She licked her lower lip before she spoke. “Welcome. Has anyone given you a tour of the house?”

  Veronica reached across the table and shook her hand briefly. “No. I…”

  Millie spoke over Veronica, her voice hard-edged and direct. “She’s just arrived. And if she’s interested in a tour, I’ll assign someone.”

  Roxy cleared her throat loudly. “Stay in your lane, Ashley. As for tours”—Roxy’s eyes held a challenge, her tone icy—“you’ll have to get in line.”

  Ashley arched a brow at Roxy. “Don’t you have to ask permission?” She turned and quirked her mouth at Millie. “You’re such a control freak.” She stood up abruptly, snagged a slice of bread from the platter, and flounced from the room.

  The room had grown quiet, the sexy fun atmosphere evaporating in Ashley’s wake. Ashley. Won’t forget her name. She’s got piece of work written all over her. What’s that about? And what’s up with Millie? Sensing a power struggle she knew nothing about, Veronica returned her focus to her meal. She spread a thick layer of butter on another slice of bread.

  Conversation between the women resumed, a signal the fraught moment had passed. Veronica kept her head down and watched the other women from under her lashes. A tour. A real tour? Or is it their code for sex? Ashley. So not my type. Maybe I need a “tour.” Take the edge off. Who would she assign? Would I have a choice? Sex. With a prostitute. Sex worker. How would it be different from the women I paid for with dinner and drinks? It’d be more honest. Veronica traced the wood grain of the table with her finger as she sorted through her thoughts.

  “Don’t let Ashley ruin your meal, Veronica.”

  Millie’s husky voice slid under her skin and sent a shiver down her back. Not a command. A request. Trying to make me feel better. Veronica studied Millie’s face. Her eyes. Worried about me. Wants to make sure I’m okay. She’s kind. Like Myfanwy. A matched pair.

  “Myfanwy’s trifle is not to be missed.”

  “I’m a fan of desserts.” Veronica sipped her water. And you.

  Chapter Four

  “WE’LL MEET IN the barn in the morning. Benita will help you with the mucking. We’ve been feeding them at seven and then turning them out. Martha will come by at ten to go over her expectations.” Millie lowered her chin to her chest. “I’m sure dinner was overwhelming. I’m sorry if Ashley made you uncomfortable. Consent is a priority here.”

  Why won’t she look at me? “I’m okay. Believe me, I’ve had worse first days.” At least this one didn’t feature orange jumpsuits.

  Millie cleared her throat before she spoke. “If you are interested in seeing the rest of the house, I’ll arrange it. If you desire the type of tour Ashley suggested with her or one of the other submissives, she’ll need to clear it with the Mistresses of the house.”

  “What?” Veronica failed to keep the shock out of her voice. “Are they slaves?” Fuck, what have I signed up for?

  Millie frowned. “They are submissives pledged to the house and employees. They have schedules and obligations, duties in the house they are expected to perform. They are well compensated for their availability and talents. That means if we have guests expecting certain women to be available, they need to be. It’s part of their contract.”

  Veronica was too exhausted to keep the anger flaring in her chest under control. “What if I was interested?”

  Millie crossed her arms in front of her chest, her gaze hard. “Are you?” She pressed her lips together in a firm line. In the light Veronica made out the fine line of a scar crossing the bridge of Millie’s nose.

  “I don’t know.” Veronica shoved her hands in her pockets and leaned on the stair rail. “It’s been so long since I’ve had any action, my clit gets hard when the wind blows.”

  Millie’s face broke into a broad grin before she laughed. The genuine sound of her laugh turned Veronica inside out, fanning the tiny flame of want that had begun on the pier in Armadale.

  “And here you are starving, presented with a buffet, and told you can’t eat anything.”

  Veronica scrubbed her hand over her face. “I’m sorry. I’m tired. And a little freaked out.”

  Millie tilted her head at Veronica. “Get some sleep. If you want something to eat before morning staff meal, Myfanwy or Robin will make you whatever you’d like. And stay out of Elaine’s way before she’s had her tea.”

  “Thanks.” Veronica walked three steps up to her bedsit. She stopped and turned to watch Millie as she walked away. She moved with grace and a touch of swagger. Forget it. She’s with Myfanwy. Don’t get involved with women who are involved.

  VERONICA SAVORED THE last bit of the coffee she had made in the French press. I would work for this coffee. So good. She checked the time on her phone before she shoved it into her pocket. She cleaned out the press and washed her cup and dried it. She’d slept better than she expected to, exhaustion solving her sleep issues for once. Restless to be moving, she tugged on her sky-blue fleece over her shirt and zipped it up. On the landing she patted her pockets. Reassured she had her multitool and her phone, she locked the door and pocketed the key.

  The early morning was chill and quiet. A fine mist rose off the rolling fields surrounding the estate. She walked around to the front of the barn and rolled open one door just wide enough to slip through. She
waited in the dim light for her eyes to adjust. Ten stalls lined the center aisle. To her left was a door with a brass plate declaring it the tack room and opposite it was another door labeled “office.”

  She stopped to admire the organization of the grooming area. Labeled boxes and chests of grooming supplies were arranged along a low bench. Built-in covered grain bins with cabinets over them were tucked in next to the office. She walked gingerly past the horses, most still dozing. Some of them raised their heads and turned to watch her with their ears forward as she walked past them. Over each stall hung a brass nameplate. Bruno, Marco, Patrick, Clyde, Jack, Honey, Bella, Luna. It’ll be easier to remember their names than the women I met last night. Clean. Organized. Holy hell the Friesian’s mane is going to be so much work.

  At the end of the aisle was another set of double doors. She rolled them back and looked out. Fenced paddocks with gates to three other paddocks were laid out behind the barn. The last stall on her right held hay bales, stacked in tidy rows. The stall on the other side held the mucking gear, barrows, shovels, and pitchforks. Veronica turned around as the large doors behind her rolled open, flooding the barn with light and cool air.

  “Good morning.” Millie strode down the center of the barn.

  Veronica walked back down the aisle to meet her halfway. Millie held out a thermos.

  “Myfanwy thought you might need this.”

  Veronica took the flask. “Thank you. I’m sure I will.”

  She followed Millie as she walked back to the office. She opened the door and waved Veronica forward. “This is your space.”

  Veronica entered the room. A large desk, rolling chair, and tall file cabinet took up one side of the cozy office. A credenza behind the desk held a laptop and printer. A worn leather couch, small refrigerator, and a bookshelf lined the other wall. A scuffed captain’s chair sat next to the couch.