Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
I closed my door behind me with shaking hands, leaning back against the wood as if it alone could hold me upright.
My skin still thrummed, sensitive in a way I'd never imagined possible.
My lips were sore from biting them to keep back sounds I hadn't wanted to make, and between my thighs.
.. Dear lord, help me, between my thighs, I ached, heavy and sweet.
I was afraid that something inside me had awakened, and wouldn't be satisfied with going back to sleep again.
I'd touched myself. There. In front of them.
Because they told me to.
The shame hit hot, spreading like fire through my chest. No respectable woman would have allowed such a thing. I'd been raised to guard my virtue, to carry it proudly. And yet, the moment they asked it of me, I had obeyed.
Worse... I liked it.
And now I craved it.
I pressed the heels of my hands to my eyes, fighting against the tears that threatened. This wasn't me. I was practical, steady, raised on hard work, not lust and indulgence.
I wasn't meant for... for this.
A soft knock startled me, and I jerked upright.
The door opened before I could answer. "Miss," Chloe's cheerful voice rang out as she bustled inside and started packing up the tray she'd brought me earlier, "You hardly touched your lunch.
We don't want you getting in trouble now, do we?
" She set the tray on the little side table near the fire, not sparing me more than a glance.
I wrapped my arms around myself, hoping my maid couldn't see the flush in my cheeks or the wildness in my eyes.
"Thank you, Chloe," I managed. My voice sounded strange in my ears. Thin and strained.
She gave me a curious look as she fussed with the napkin, but didn't press. Instead, she began to chatter about a broken vase in the hall, the post that had come in from town and if the weather would be good enough for them to do all the wash in the coming morning.
I nodded where appropriate, grateful that her words filled the silence. Grateful she didn't ask after things she shouldn't.
But wasn't that the mark of good staff? Isn't that what Magnus and Leighton had told me?
Chloe finished packing and clearing up and left. My stomach twisted as I thought about what had transpired.
Not long after Chloe returned to help me get ready for dinner. It seemed the masters had decreed it was time I took my meals with them again. I swallowed down the nerves, sent a nervous smile Chloe's way and let her chatter at me as she picked a dress and helped me style my hair.
Then I rose, smoothed my skirts with trembling hands, and stared at my reflection in the tall standing mirror. My cheeks were still too pink, my eyes too bright, but there was no helping it.
I had no choice. I could meet them on my terms or have them hunt me down.
If I went to them, at least I could pretend I was still in control.
The dining room was awash with golden lamplight, the long table gleaming beneath crystal and silver. Leighton rose as I entered, his smile warm enough. I'd even go so far as to say it was welcoming. Magnus merely inclined his head, a flicker of amusement in his eyes that made my steps falter.
"Lisa," Leighton said as he drew out my chair. "You look lovely this evening."
The words should have steadied me, but instead they made my stomach twist tighter. His gentleness was almost unbearable after what I had done for them. I murmured my thanks, keeping my eyes trained on the plate before me.
Dinner began as though nothing scandalous had transpired between us.
Polite conversation, weather, the vineyards, news from the Cape.
Leighton told a funny story about one of his workers trying to train a stubborn mule, and I even laughed!
For a moment, I might have convinced myself that the world was still as it had been before they'd told me what they wanted from me.
But then Magnus's hand brushed the stem of his glass in a way that was far too deliberate, his thumb circling slowly as though reminding me of the motion he had demanded from my own hand earlier. My cheeks heated, and I ducked my gaze.
Leighton brought my distracted attention back to him. "We'll begin crushing next week, if the weather holds. After that the must will go straight into the vats."
I frowned in earnest. "The... must? I didn't know grapes could be so bossy."
Leighton laughed softly, his gaze warm on me. "Oh, it's not an order, love. Must is what we call crushed grapes before we turn them into wine."
"Oh," I said, staring at him, my cheeks heating for a different reason that time.
"Don't worry, sweet girl. We'll teach you all there is to know."
"She learns quickly when guided," Magnus remarked idly. His tone was mild, but his eyes locked on mine across the table, and I knew he wasn't talking about grapes, wines or even horses.
My fork slipped against the plate, the scrape loud in the silence. Heat flared all the way from my ears to the tips of my toes. Leighton reached over, brushing his fingers against mine as if to steady me.
"I think she's done more than enough learning for one day," he said lightly, but there was something protective in the way his thumb lingered against my knuckles. "I won't have you making things more difficult than it need be, Mag. Give the girl a break."
My chest ached at Leighton's tenderness, his easy defense. How could I ever tell him that the warmth he offered only made my guilt sharper? That I wanted to curl into his kindness even as a darker, wilder part of me craved the way Magnus looked at me, as if I were a challenge he meant to conquer.
I forced a mouthful of food down, though it might as well have been ash. Every moment, every bite, was a battle, pretending I wasn't replaying the sound of their voices in my head as they guided me through my self-pleasure.
"I still haven't agreed to anything permanent."
Silence stretched. The scrape of my fork against the plate sounded indecently loud. My breath stuck in my chest, waiting for their anger, their disappointment.
Instead, the men exchanged a glance.
Leighton reached across the table, brushing his fingers over mine in reassurance. "No one's asking you to decide this instant, love. You've only just arrived."
Magnus's voice came next, smooth, dark and deadly. "But you'll find it harder and harder to pretend you don't want what we're offering."
My lips parted with a protest I never quite voiced.
Leighton leaned back, his smile just as easy as always. "How about we start small? Tomorrow, instead of hiding in your room, you come out with us."
My brows shot up as my heartbeat sped up. "What do you mean?"
"We'll take you into town," he said, his tone casual. "Get some new clothes ordered for you. Perhaps take a stroll down Main street."
Magnus tipped his glass toward me, eyes glittering. "And little filly? Before we leave these walls... We'll make sure you're well reminded of who you belong to. Even if you don't believe it yet."
The air seemed to thicken, making it harder to breathe.
Belong.
The word lodged itself in my heart like a brand, hot and undeniable.