“I have no intentions of—”
Audrey couldn’t finish her sentence before the door creaked open, its hinges whining. There he stood - his seat flawless, his face beaming, his smirk broad. Caught off-guard, Audrey swallowed hard.
“I’m— L-Lord Parris,” she stammered.
“Good afternoon, sir,” Ana purred, sashaying through the cramped kitchen to the Duke’s side. He lofted a quizzical brow, his voice flat and serious.
“Hello, Ana. I have some work that needs to be done upstairs, in my bedchambers,” he announced.
“Oh?” Ana smiled deviously. “Did you come to gather me up, then? I’d be happy to help.”
“Actually,” Lord Parris said deadpan, “I had come to enlist Ms. Fisher’s help. I feel I need to instruct her on a few things about cleaning the estate.” Ana blinked. Audrey swallowed hard, feeling her heart starting to pound again. She could scarcely believe, nor understand, why he’d need her help - in his bedchambers. Doubt cluttered her stomach and made her feel sick.
“Wh-what? You want her help?” Ana struggled. “Why?”
“Are you questioning my orders, Ms. Rancourt?” Lord Parris regarded her skeptically.
“Wh- no! I’m... I’m just...” speechless, Ana staggered back and landed in one of the rough wooden chairs, stuffed into the corner of the kitchen.
“Ms. Fisher? Will be you be accompanying me, then?” Audrey shook herself from her haunted, surprised reverie and nodded anxiously.
“O-of course, sir, I’ll— I’m sorry, just give me a moment to catch my breath,” she gasped, her cheeks bright red. She obsessively smoothed out her white skirt, bringing a small, seductive chuckle to Lord Parris’s lips.
“Catch your breath? Have I already stolen it away form you?” Lord Parris growled. He beckoned her on behind him with a curl of his fingers, and she followed; on the way through the door, Audrey caught a fleeting glimpse of Ana, shocked, in her chair; she pulled her gaze to Audrey’s face just long enough to glare with vitriol in every crevice of her expression. Audrey tiptoed nervously through the door, fearful of how Ana might treat her because of this.
“Are you two getting along quite well?” Lord Parris asked unexpectedly while he and Audrey climbed the grand staircase; Audrey murmured a string of stunned syllables before piecing words together.
“I, uhm— I’m...” she giggled, blushing. “I don’t think... Ms. Rancourt likes me all too much, sir.”
“Ana has a tendency to grow jealous,” he admitted. “She’s protective of me, you see.”
“Pr-protective? Of you?” Audrey queried, her curiosity getting the better of her.
“Of course. All my house staff tends to be,” he answered, full of gaiety. “Ana simply sees the relationship as... well, as more personal.”
“Why is that?” Audrey fired back quickly, wanting to hear this right from her employer’s mouth.
“Well, because she and I have been close,” he admitted brazenly. “But I’m not interested in her tonight,” he growled, as they reached the door to his bedchamber.
“My... my lord,” Audrey responded, not expecting that sort of an answer; one so bold. “I... I came to the McClellan estate to clean,” she warned.
“Isn’t that what I requested of you, sweet Audrey?” he hummed. He immediately stole away her breath as she entered his bedchamber - a place she had not yet been allowed to enter. Maroon fleur-de-lis wallpaper trimmed in gold plastered the wall, bordered with spotless oak paneling; a bed larger than any Audrey had ever dreamed of seeing sat before an intricately-carved headboard, a golden canopy hanging overhead, translucent gold curtains twisting in the cool breeze from his opened, floor-to-ceiling windows, giving a flawless view of the sun setting over the moors. Heedless he strode across woven rugs straight from Persia, basking in the falling sun; he shrugged his blazer from his shoulders, laying it across the elegant chair set before his maple writing desk. As Audrey crept carefully in behind him, her slippers sliding along the rug, the duke unbuttoned his silky white shirt, pulling it off of his muscled body and laying it over the chair as well. Audrey sucked in a quick breath, averting her eyes.
“M-M’lord,” she murmured, startled. “Sh-should I be seeing you quite... like this? It seems i-inappropriate,” Audrey insisted with a nervous laugh, eying the gallery of expensive paintings draped along the walls; framed in gold-painted wood, beautifully-crafted landscapes glowed in the rich orange of the sunset.
“Have you never seen a man without his shirt on before, Ms. Fisher?” Lord Parris teased, ever-confident. “Perhaps you haven’t... scandalous, isn’t it?”
“M’lord, I... I just...” Audrey held back from looking. Her aunt, and Agatha, had warned her about Lord Parris. She swallowed hard, resisting all alluring temptation in his hotly rumbling voice. She heard footsteps, soft against the carpet, her breath quivering. “I had hoped to get this cl... cleaning done, before night fell. So that I wouldn’t disturb your sleep.”
“I’d very much like to disturb your sleep,” he cooed, approaching closer, and she simply couldn’t keep her eyes away any longer. She felt so scandalous, so wrong, taking a peek at her employer’s shirtless body - his abs rippled in the dying sun, every cut of his firm, strong body calling out to her, making her blush brighter; making her body shake in a want she didn’t even know existed.
“I-I say... I said, disturb your sleep,” she tried to clarify, babbling weakly.
“We can disturb one another’s sleep,” he purred. She heard him push the door shut... the handle clicking firmly shut. Her breath trembled hard. She knew she needed to steady herself; to cool the fiery burning deep in her chest.
“L... Lord Parris, this...” she swallowed hard. “D-do you do this with all of your maidservants?” she stammered, indignant. “I... Ana, she... you, and... I don’t find it a-appropriate at all. A... a girl, like me, has her place, and you, you have your place...”
“Your place is here, and I know you feel it,” he whispered into her ear, and his breath burned so hot on her skin that her spine shivered against her will. He stood behind her now, lips looming so close to her neck. Audrey looked away again, but she couldn’t still her breaths, picking up steam like a runaway carriage rumbling down a hill.
“My place is in the maid’s chambers,” Audrey said, her voice failing in its attempts at remaining resolute. “I d... Lord Parris, I dare not criticize your lifestyle, but it’s... it can’t include me.”
“Why do you try to deny what I know you’re feeling here?” His arm wrapped around and pressed against her heart, and sure as she could feel it throbbing in her chest, so could he. She gasped, but she didn’t pull away; no, she couldn’t, not with how good it felt for the duke’s strong hand to touch her. “You’re different, Audrey,” he whispered; she could feel his adoring lips nibbling at her earlobe, cresting down the side of her face, until he showered her neck with delicious, erotic praise. She could fight the feeling no more, falling back against his chest, moaning a soft puff of a moan as splashes of sunlit orange spread across her white linen blouse.
“N... this is... the duchess, and Ana, they’ll kill me if they knew, m’lord,” she protested. “My Aunt... Agatha, they...” she didn’t want him to stop. Every inch of her body quaked in choking need to feel him, but her mind just couldn’t say yes. Finally, she felt his lips on her cheek, spreading lusty warmth across her milky skin, and with her eyes held shut, and her body trembling and begging for her to give in, her muscles stiffened and she shouted.
“No!” she exclaimed. She didn’t want to say it. Every muscle, burning now in desire, begged her not to. But she couldn’t let down her aunt. She couldn’t dare to cross the duchess - or to cross Ana. She had a duty to perform... and as much as she hated feeling so obligated to duty, she dared not bring scandal down on her name or her family. Or worse yet - entangle the duke in a scandal of his own. Lord Parris’s hands lingered, feeling her body tremble, before he withdrew. They breathed hot and heavy together, their li
ps lingering so close.
Though she stood firm, she couldn’t retreat yet... not completely. Their lips met, and the fire of passion as they kissed filled her with something her virginal body had never felt; a warmth reaching down into her stomach, her entire body blushing as they shared a tender, tense, and powerful moment of entwined desire together. He gazed into her eyes as their kiss ended; she did the same. It felt so good for her to be in his arms, so good that she never wanted to give it up.
“That’ll be all, then, Ms. Fisher,” Lord Parris murmured, straightening his stance; leaving her so painfully devoid of his strength, and his warmth. She tidied herself, legs squirming as to contain the desire within.
“I... th-thank you, m’lord,” she murmured with a curtsy. Their gazes lingered for a long, long while - full of disdain, and doubt - and something feral, something real.
“Good night, Ms. Fisher,” he growled.
“G... good night,” she responded, still shaken - and, for the first time in so long, feeling so alive.
Chapter 5
The dining room itself was larger than any room Audrey had had to clean at her aunt and uncle’s inn, and now - by mid-afternoon, she had grown so exhausted from polishing marble statues, wooden paneling and carved maple chairs, along with scrubbing spotless the tiles, she flung herself with a sigh into the tall, plush-velvet dining chair sat at the head of the table, breathing deeply. She had been up since sunrise; Agatha worked her hard, and while the old woman may had had her suspicions, Audrey kept the secret of her kiss shared so passionately with the master of the house completely silent.
She watched cattle graze upon the moors; it seemed every room in the manor gave a breathtaking view of rolling, verdant green hills trailing into the distance, as far as any eye could see. Farmers tended to their cattle, with a small village of stone structures and farmhouses scattered at the edge of the horizon. Resting her head in her hands, Audrey reclined in the chair, listening to distant calls and the chirp of birds along idyllic pastures. She never got to enjoy this sort of thing in the city - in bustling London, alleyways cut across more alleyways and looming pubs, merchant cornerstones and inns stood on every street corner. She hadn’t enjoyed the smell of fresh grass or morning dew since she’d left the family farm, after her mother and father had passed.
“Bryce? Are you in here?” A faintly-familiar voice startled Audrey’s relaxing reverie; she jumped from the chair, stumbling forward, nearly onto her face. She could recognize the haughty crowing - as that of Duchess Francine, the duke’s presumed wife-to-be, eventually. She certainly seemed persistent. “Bryce? You’re not Lord Parris,” the duchess scowled on seeing Audrey struggle for balance, her face beaming with a nervous smile.
“I’m— I’m sorry, m’lady, I’m not certain where—” Audrey bowed her head in deference, the innocent woman blushing. The maid’s lips curled in distaste.
“What are you doing sitting at the dinner table? Hasn’t Agatha got a task to assign you? The help isn’t paid for its lethargy,” Duchess Francine chided, arms crossed tight over her corset-bound chest, a flowing gown of golden gossamer beneath. “Where’s your bucket? You missed a spot. Scrub that floor, there,” she pointed a bony, white-gloved finger towards the corner of the dining room, behind a small statue of a man’s bust. “Why haven’t you gotten to cleaning? Should I call Ana, or Agatha?”
“N-no, m’lady, I apologize,” Audrey sighed, her back already aching from a morning spent hunched over, scrubbing away at the entire dining room. “I’m sorry for the duke’s absence—”
“That’s of no concern to you. Nothing about Bryce is a concern to you, do you understand?” Francine snarled. Back onto her knees, back hunched, her red hair a knotted mess from a morning of sweating and working, Audrey looked like quite disaster as she carefully pulled the bust out of the way, dragging her bucket behind her. Not satisfied with the blushing and nervous young woman’s reply, Francine’s heels clacked loudly as she approached Audrey’s hunched, deferent body.
“He’s-he’s just my employer, is all, m’lady, I promise,” she murmured weakly, dipping her brush into the soapy water.
“That’s all he is,” Francine murmured dangerously. Leaned over the hunched maidservant, her teeth clenched, Francine’s voice squeezed hatefully through to poor, meek Audrey. “I heard about what happened last night. I thought I had made it clear to you maid-harlots that the lord’s business is mine to handle, and none of yours,” she seethed. “I’ll not tolerate any other implications of impropriety. Do you understand?” She threatened.
“L-lady, Lady Francine, please—”
“You will address me only as duchess,” she snarled.
“I— duchess, yes, no-nothing happened! Lord Parris simply requested I help to clean his bedchambers, and...”
“Have I made myself clear? You will not even so much as dream of what Bryce’s bedchambers look like,” Francine growled.”You will not—”
“Is something going on in here? Francine?” Lord Parris entered the dining hall, tie tight to his neck, a fancy-tailored suit with maroon waistcoat clinging tight to his gorgeous, chiseled body. “What are you doing?”
“I was— well, I was simply... getting your servants to do their jobs!” the duchess’s voice wobbled as she stood tall once again. “I entered the dining hall to find this one lazing in the chair! You really ought to give Agatha an earful on this one. Nothing but impetuous and troublesome, as I’ve seen her.” Audrey dutifully scrubbed away at the floorboards, though there was little dirt or grime to clean. She simply hoped to stay out of the duchess’s way.
“Are you the head of my household staff now, then?” the duke asked skeptically. “Last I knew, I had Agatha for that. Not you, Francine.”
“I was... you should appreciate me, you know,” Francine huffed. The duke’s eyes shifted to Audrey, who remained silent, her head down, scrubbing furiously in hopes she wouldn’t be noticed.
“Is this true? Were you loafing, on the job?” the duke’s accusatory tone falls onto Audrey’s stressed shoulders. Her breath picks up and fear throbs down every nerve. “Ms. Fisher?” he asks, expectantly waiting for a response. Audrey finally stopped, quivering as she laid her brush back into the soapy water bucket.
“Y-yes, m’lord, I’m terribly sorry, I... my back, it hurt, after a morning cleaning the dining hall, and I simply decided to take a moment to—”
“See? And you doubted me,” the duchess roared in slithering satisfaction. “At least the little brat hasn’t the gall to lie to you about it. I suppose she deserves recognition for that.”
“Quiet, Francine,” the duke growled sternly. “Go wait outside, in the carriage. I’ll need a word with my maidservant, about her work,” he instructed. Smugly satisfied, the duchess curtsied with so much sarcasm in her expression.
“Remember, we need to be to Northshire before sunset, so do hurry,” Francine’s saccharine voice dripped, before she clacked her way out of the hall. Audrey sat hunched in terrified silence, fearing that after the previous night, she had so deeply offended the duke that her time here at the McClellan estate was surely over. The door shut with a muffled boom, and next she heard his voice, commanding and powerful.
“Stand up, Audrey,” he demanded. She complied, reflexively, as if some powerful force in his tone worked her like the strings of a marionette. She cast her gaze away, not having the courage to look at her employer’s face.
“M’lord, I’m deeply sorry, I had... I just simply wished for a moment’s reprieve from the pain in my back,” she pleaded weakly.
“You haven’t looked at my face today. Not last night, in my bedchamber. Not until we kissed, Ms. Fisher,” he spoke firmly. “Look at me.” She hesitated.
“M... m’lord, I didn’t mean to offend... last night, please, don’t hold it against me,” she insisted.
“Look at me,” he demanded again, firm; powerful. Again, she felt compelled to listen, her eyes locking on to his. She expected to see distaste; to see
hate. Instead, she met eyes full of that same emotion she had seen last night - in his bedchamber. It’s as if their embrace had never truly ended. “I expect a certain amount of control over my household, Ms. Fisher,” he said, approaching her slowly. His voice carried authority, but with it came a sizzling sense of lust, and just like that Audrey felt all those same wants, burning in her heart - the ones she had shut down so thoroughly the night before. They burned again and she struggled, trying to keep them suppressed as her lip trembled softly.
“M... M’lord, I don’t... I’m sorry, I’ll behave, I’ve done wh... what Agatha...” her words trailed away the closer he came, until she couldn’t even breathe without a little mewling moan of want in each tremble of her lungs.
“I expect... obedience, Ms. Fisher... and I think you’ll find,” he growled, “that once you’ve tasted my obedience... you’ll enjoy it.”
“I... I told you... you no, last night, m’lord, but b... because,” she tried to explain herself, her voice thin and soft.
“Shhh,” he murmured, a finger held to her lips. “I respect a woman of propriety... a virginal woman, a woman of integrity...” he reassured her. “I felt something different, with you, Ms. Fisher...” he stepped behind her, and she heard a quiet rustling; with steely fingers grasping her wrists, she yelped as his strength bound her wrists together; a leather belt held them tight, and all she could do was wriggle her fingers.
“I can’t...” she protested. “Th... the duchess, she waits just outside, for you, Lord Parris,” Audrey fought to make a thousand excuses, her mind telling her it was so wrong, so full of scandal. But when his hands massaged her shoulders and gave them just what she had wanted, if only for a moment, and she felt his lips on her skin again, she couldn’t hold out any longer. Aunt Bette’s words filled her mind; then Agatha’s. Then that sneered threat, seethed through the duchess’s teeth. She saw Ana’s scowling face as she turned her face so hungrily and locked lips with him again. She felt good, submitting - her wrists tied. Losing control would normally terrify Audrey, but with him, it felt... right. Like a puzzle piece fallen in to a perfect jigsaw of hot bodies stoked in lusty need.
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