by Lacy Danes
The doctor’s white left brow rose. “Tsk, tsk Adam. I was not referring to my attraction to Miss Grey. Mind your manners.” He pushed out his chest and tilted his head toward him.
“You like women?” Adam’s brow pulled tight. He had never once seen him with anyone other than the master in this house.
“Quite. Though that is still not my point.”
“What point?”
“You.” A wicked grin turned the doctor’s lips. “You are in love with her.”
“Pardon?” Love? He shook his head.
“Miss Grey.” He chuckled. “I had always thought you knew no other emotion than lust…” He waved his hands between the two of them and then touched his chin. “This was a big gesture. A clumsy but honorable gesture.”
Adam ran his hand though his hair.
“Do tell, Adam.”
The images of Miss Gray flashed to his conscience. Chewing the piece of apple in the laundry the first time he saw her. Her cap all shifted and disheveled after clinging so tightly to him. The sound of her passion as she cried out her release against the window. And her dreams… Love. Marriage. Caring for one man, and him caring for her. Her touch on his hands as she traced his welts. The hairs on his neck stood. The welts stung, but he had not noticed when she’d touched him.
She was tender.
A savior.
His redemption. He needed her. And she needed him.
If that meant love, he could admit those words. His throat tightened and a shiver rippled through him. Love. He needed to make her leave and he would go with her. She deserved so much more than this house. As his mother had. As his brother did. Devlin…
Devlin. His shoulders sagged, and he spun away from the doctor. “Naught will come of it.”
“Oh I would not underestimate the power of that emotion. It alone has made entire kingdoms fall.” The doctor stood patiently.
Adam turned away and cut back across the lawn to the carriage house door. Rain drenched his livery and hair, but he was warmed through. He swiped his hand across his forehead. Devlin… Miss Grey… His promise to his mother. He would have to leave here and take Miss Grey with him, turning his back on his mother’s wish and his brother. His heart leapt and his stomach knotted. Maybe Devlin would come with him.
Last night, he had slept holding her the entire night. When Sibila had entered and woken him, he had known then in his gut what the doctor said just now. He had deep emotions for Emily.
He strode into the barn and down the hallway. The horses gently nickered to him. Until now, these beasts were the ones he showed his affection to. He needed affection from a woman and he wanted that woman to be Miss Grey. He spun about on his booted heel. He needed to find her. To tell her. He knew not what good it would do, but she needed to know, and he needed to tell it. Damn, he wanted to tell the world.
He walked with purposeful strides down the hall to the main courtyard and entry to the kitchen, then stepped out into the thundering rain. A bolt of lightning cracked off in the distance, lighting up the sky. A symbolic bolt. A symbolic storm. His life was about to split wide. His stomach tightened and he turned back into the kitchen. Mrs. Wicking stood over the bread oven and turned toward Adam. “My, you look a fright. What happened to you?”
He glanced down at his attire. Mud was splattered up his pant legs, and his livery hung soaked through.
“I was not mentioning your attire, Adam. Here, dear. Sit, have a little port. You are flush as a cherry.”
“Thanks, Mrs. Wicking, but I need more than port to get me out of this.” He needed her. Emily. His beautiful, innocent Emily.
“Oh dear. Did something happen to the master’s colt? Or is this about Christon’s whip? Do you need tending to?”
He grasped the bottle that Mrs. Wicking had set on the table and, tilting the bottle back, he swallowed one large gulp. Devlin needed to know too. “Thank you, Mrs. Wicking. The colt and I are well enough. I just need to locate Devlin and Miss Grey.”
“I have not seen Devlin, though Miss Grey is upstairs, cleaning the pots, I believe.”
He nodded and headed out of the kitchen and up to the main floor. He needed to talk to Devlin first and would check the parlor and the library. If he was not there, he would check Devlin’s room.
He strode into the third open door on the main floor. The library was dark, but light filtered through the window on the opposite side of the towering shelves. Adam hesitated. He could do this. It was time. Devlin was growing up into a man in his own right. He deserved to know as much as Adam needed to tell.
He traversed the rows of shelving stocked from ceiling to floor with books. Beyond the last rows of shelves, the room opened up to a wall of glass that showed out onto the side of the house and the small pond to the north. He found Devlin seated in one of the deep leather chairs, book in hand. “Devlin.”
His brother looked up at him and smiled that same genuine smile of their mother’s. “Something amiss, Adam?”
“Unfortunately so.” He swallowed a lump that had lodged in his throat.
“Please sit.” Devlin lowered his book and uncrossed his long legs.
There was no other way than to simply tell him. “Devlin, I have been working here for five years now. You are now eighteen. I knew your mother.”
“You knew Lady Gregor? How so?” Devlin cocked his head to the side.
“No. Not Lady Gregor. Your mother was a servant here. Her name was Betsy.” Devlin’s smile slowly straightened. “I too am her son, from her marriage to my father. Before your father came into her life.”
Devlin’s brows went up and he leaned forward in his chair. He still said nothing.
“Your father and she were lovers for some years. Well, more than that, actually. She gave you to the master when you were born because she could not afford to keep you. She could scarcely afford to keep me. She loved Lord Gregor to the day she died, even though his attention had gone elsewhere.” Adam swallowed. His mother had killed herself because he’d left her, but Devlin didn’t need to know that. Not at this moment. “It is why I am here at Portage Place. When she died, she begged me to watch out for you.” Adam licked his lips. “Which is why I obtained a position here. It was her wish.”
Devlin turned toward the pond. “I have no idea why you have come up with such lunacy, Adam. I am a legitimate son of Lord Gregor. My mother Lady Gregor sends me letters. If she were not my natural mother, she would have stopped that when she left.”
Adam frowned. “I wish I had a painting or drawing of her. If you saw her, you would know instantly you were related.” Maybe it didn’t matter if he believed him. Maybe it only mattered that he had done his best to ensure he was well during his adolescence. His throat closed a bit. No. This was not how things should have been.
Devlin turned his gaze back to him. “Do you have more to say?”
“Simply that I had always hoped we could be the brothers our mother had hoped we would become. She loved you. She loved me. She loved Lord Gregor.”
“If this is true, I can’t and won’t acknowledge it. Not to anyone without becoming that bastard. I like you. I hope you understand. I also love Lady Gregor, even if this house was too much for her.”
“What about you, Devlin? How are you in this house?”
“I don’t mind it here. I am quite comfortable.” His smile returned. “Truly. You have nothing to concern yourself about.”
That was it. He had said his secret and Devlin had refused to believe. There was little more he could do. He had failed to convince him, but had no evidence beyond his word. He stood and stared into his eyes. “Know that I have always thought of you as my brother, Devlin.”
“You are leaving?” Devlin tilted his head to the side.
“Yes.”
Devlin nodded again. “That is why you came to me now with this information.”
“Yes. I had hoped…”
Devlin reached out and grasped Adams hand, then stood. The same lighthearted smile curved his lips. “Be well in
your travels, Adam.”
No, he wouldn’t have come. He had been a fool to think he would. Even if in his heart Devlin knew it was true, he would never give up his position as Lord Gregor’s son. This would be the last he would see his brother for some time. “Thank you, Devlin.” He squeezed his hand tighter and then let it go.
Devlin’s ever-present sunny smile faltered. “Good day, Adam.”
Adam slowly turned. Sadness and a lightness he had not experienced in an age swirled in his gut. He would never know if he had done enough or if what he had done had affected Devlin at all. What he did know was that Devlin would be fine here, and Adam…well, now he was free. Free to make a dream a reality.
Chapter Ten
Emily walked into the master’s bedchambers. The windows were open and the sheer under-drapes billowed into the room. Sibila stood on the opposite side of the bed holding a pillow.
“Emily.” Her lips turned up. “Help me turn and fluff the master’s mat.”
Emily strode forward. “Certainly.” She needed to tell Sibila she was leaving, after which she would tell Mr. Waterton, and then this entire calamity would be over and she could figure out what to do.
She reached the edge of the mattress and slid her fingers under the edge, gripping the muslin. Sibila grasped the other side. Sibila lifted her side up and Emily pushed hers toward Sibila’s side. The mattress fell and flipped back into place with a whoosh of air.
There, work done, now tell her. “Sibila.” Emily stared at her from the opposite side of the bed cushion.
Sibila turned and grasped the long handle of the mattress cane to even out the filling. She walked back toward the bed. “You would be surprised what the master uses this for.” The long, thin handle ended in a bent series of circles. She raised the cane into the air and brought the long stick down on the mat directly in front of her. Thwack!
Emily jumped. There is no need to hesitate. Tell her. “Sibila, I wanted you to be the first I told.”
“Oh?” She stepped around the corner of the bed and continued to head toward her, thwacking the cushion as she came.
“Quite so. I have decided that this post is too vexing for me. I am leaving.”
Sibila’s hand stopped mid-swing on the edge of the corner of the bed. She lowered the cane slowly, never taking her gaze from it as it touched the muslin cover. She jerked her head to meet Emily’s gaze.
Goodness, her face was flushed.
“I am sorry you have come to that conclusion. I-I…” She rounded the corner to stand before her. “I am sorry you have come to this conclusion.” She raised her arms, threw them around Emily’s shoulders and squeezed her.
“Thank you, Sibila. You were very supportive. I—”
Sibila ran her fingers down her arms to her wrists. In one quick motion, her fingers gripped her left wrist and yanked her arm up hard behind her back.
Pain splintered through Emily’s arm and her eyes widened. “Ouch.”
Sibila’s face remained stone and she quickly turned Emily, wrapping her other hand behind her back.
Pain radiated through her biceps. “W-what are you doing?” Emily pulled on her hands, but with each motion pain crippled her upper body movements. She was unable to free her wrists.
Sibila quickly wrapped a length of lace about her wrists behind her back and tugged tightly.
“Sibila? Sibila!” She was not listening.
Sibila slammed her head down hard against the mattress. Emily tried to turn her head to the side, but Sibila climbed up on to her shoulders, pinning her.
Emily twisted and thrashed, kicking out, but found no purchase. Why was she doing this? Was this some jest?
“I am more sorry for this, Emily. You see, today is my last day at Portage Place. And you, you see, have to stay. You are the only way I can leave. I had hoped to present you to him later this afternoon after chores, but this will have to do.” Her fingers gripped her hair and yanked her head back out of the mattress.
Emily screamed. No one would come in to help her. Oh dear God. No one.
Sibila’s fingers came into view with one of the master’s bed sheets. Emily screeched. Sibila forced the sheet into Emily’s mouth, tying it tightly behind her head. “There now, you will be quiet as I prepare you for his gift.”
His gift? What was she talking about? This was insane. Sibila truly was touched. Emily tried to talk, but the dry, cottony sheets muffled and dried her mouth. It was impossible.
Sibila slid to the side of her. “There.”
There was no way Sibila could move her. No way at all. Emily squirmed and kicked out at her, trying to dislodge her, trying to do anything she could to get back on her feet.
“You slick tart.” Sibila turned toward her. “Don’t bother.” She reached for another sheet. Emily’s eyes widened as Sibila wrapped her fingers under her arms and pulled her up fully onto the mattress.
Emily continued to kick and wiggle. This was not a jest. Sweat dampened her brow and trickled down her back. Adam was right about Sibila. Sibila was going to do something to her, something totally against her will.
Sibila grasped her hard about the ankles. Emily kicked out, but hit nothing. Sibila grabbed her left ankle and pulled her leg to the large post on the corner of the bed. Emily twisted in the opposite direction, yanking on her leg. With her free foot flailing in the air, one of her kicks landed soundly on Sibila’s arm.
“Ouch. Stop that.” Sibila pulled a thick piece of leather that was tied about the post and looped it about her ankle. She let her ankle go and, as Emily kicked out, the leather tightened snugly.
There were restraints attached to the bed that tightened as you struggled? Her heart sank and her stomach pitched. She kicked violently at Sibila with her free leg while at the same time attempting to roll her body toward the tied leg and the door. Sibila flung herself across Emily. Weighed down, Emily pulled her free leg up and kneed Sibila in the side.
“Stop that!” Sibila grasped her other flailing ankle.
Oh God, this was not happening!
Sibila yanked, pulling her other leg to the opposite pole. Emily kicked and squirmed, her ankle coming loose from her grasp only to have Sibila recapture it and successfully loop her leg in the harsh restraint.
“Don’t you understand? You are the only way. I-I can’t stay here any longer. I can’t leave him without someone who will pleasure him, care for him. If you leave, I will have to stay. I-I can’t.”
Emily lay on her back, her hands tied behind her bottom. She was gagged with her legs ripped impossibly far apart by restraints that tightened if she moved. Her skirts lay tangled and her hat askew.
Calm, Emily. Someone will come at some point. She lay motionless. She twisted her shoulders in an attempt to see Sibila.
Sibila appeared above her. She grasped a pillow, folded it and held it to the side of her face. Oh no! She was going to smother her. No! This could not be happening. A tear ran down Sibila’s cheek. She wrapped her arm about Emily’s waist and lifted her hips, shoving the pillow under her bottom and hands. Emily’s breath came quick, and she swallowed against her dry mouth.
Sibila worked with haste as she undid Emily’s skirt and pulled the fabric, tearing it from her body. The breeze from the storm outside cooled her skin as she lay with the skirt material torn from her front. The pillow arched her hips into that air. With her legs wide, she could only imagine the humiliating view. Cramps rumbled in her tummy.
Sibila untied her knickers and splayed them. Her fingers trailed up Emily’s inner thigh.
“You are beautiful. He will be pleased.”
To whom did she refer? The master? Adam? Or one of the sons?
Sibila undid the buttons on the front of Emily’s blouse She pushed the fabric open. “This is not how I had wanted to display you for him. But it will have to do.”
Emily didn’t know what to do. Her heart pounded and she lay there, unable to move.
Sibila knelt beside her and simply stared. Her eyes, blue a
s sky, were empty, void of emotion as tears slid down her cheeks. It appeared she was in pain and somehow believed what she was doing was her only way to relieve her pain. To her, Emily was her only option. Emily squeezed her eyes shut. She couldn’t stare at her. This was not the option Sibila should be pursuing.
Where was Adam? Oh God, he would not come for her. The doctor had kissed her. He had been so angry. He would never come for her.
Sibila ran her fingers along Emily’s cheeks. “I am sorry.”
She pushed up from the mattress and left the room.
Emily stared at the ceiling. What was going to happen to her? She tried to swallow, but it was impossible. Whomever Sibila brought back to this room would take her as she laid there unable to move, totally exposed. She would not choose the first person to enter her body. Sibila had chosen for her.
She pulled at her legs, and the cool air played along her skin and the place between her thighs. The cotton strip! She had forgotten to place it this morning. Dash it. Her heart sank. Whoever came into this room could get her with child. She squirmed and the leather tightened, spreading her legs a bit farther apart. She should not move. The muscles on her inner thighs stretched and burned. Maybe her hands were the area she should concentrate on. She wiggled them, but the lace bit into her skin and stiffened. They, too, would not budge.
Her fingertips tingled behind her back. She stared at the ceiling and then the curtain billowing into the room. Tears stung her eyes. She should have left when Adam had told her to. She squeezed her eyes tight, pushing the tears down her cheeks and into her hair. She had wanted to stay to get to know Adam. Now she was displayed, the sacrificial virgin for a man she didn’t want. Her head grew light and the room spun. Calm yourself. There is nothing you can do now. She inhaled a deep breath through her nose.
Concentrate on the sounds in the room. The rain pelted against the window and the window covers flapped in the wind. A clock dinged eight somewhere in the distance. Every sound in the house made her flinch. What if someone unintended came in? A shiver raced up her spine. This was the master’s bedchamber. She did not want him touching her. She had wanted to leave this place, but what if the man Sibila offered her to was Adam?