39. The Dark Manor
~ GRACE ~
On the fourth day of flying, just when I began to wonder if I could make it through another night of this, because my body was so weary and pained, we landed in a field alongside Breckon’s estate house.
I hadn’t previously approached it by any means except the road, so I didn’t recognize it until we were almost on the ground.
And even though my spirits rose—finally I would be untied and could make a strategy for escape—my heart sank. Days of flying, and we’d reached Breckon’s estate without any sign or signal from Kham or Voski.
We landed in the twilight of sunset. Even before we dismounted, the servants gathered on the stairs, forming a long, inverted V, with the House Mistress and Master at the top, the rest of the household servants lined up and spread out to each side and below.
It was instinct, as I stumbled toward them, to roll my shoulders back and raise my head. But the muscles in my neck were so weary and sore, it was difficult to keep my chin level with the ground, as I’d been trained since I was a child.
And of course, I was dressed in leathers, rather than a gown. My hair tugged half out of its braid. No doubt there was dirt on my cheeks as well.
But I did my best to present with dignity as we approached the stairs, and the servants bowed and curtseyed.
“Yes, yes, very good. Your mistress, the Lady Grace Barnslow has finally arrived, and I’m certain you’re all very pleased.
Mrs. Harrow, please have the girls run a bath.
Mr. Sheperd, ensure the maids have prepared her chamber as we discussed.
The rest of you, the Lady Grace is your new mistress, and you will obey her—except where her orders contradict mine.
I’m certain you’re all clear on that point. ”
“Yes, my Lord.” The chorus murmured. Their nervous voices made my skin crawl.
Over the days we’d traveled, I’d made a vague plan. I’d always been skilled in befriending servants, and hoped if we made it this far, I could attempt to curry the favor of one or two who might help me create opportunities for escape.
But scanning the servants as we walked briskly up the stairs, my hope faded.
Blank faces, averted eyes, trembling postures from the younger ones. These servants didn’t just know their place. They were terrified of him.
They wouldn’t fight him for me.
Without preamble, I was walked straight into his grand entrance hall, then led up one of the twin stair cases that took half-spirals up to the second level where the hallways were slightly narrower.
At first, we walked directly toward the double-doors that I was certain led to his chambers, and my stomach twisted. But, at the moment we reached the door, he passed me off to one of the maids, and with no less than four men following, I was ushered further down the hall.
I trembled with relief.
Two doors down, I was led into a bathing room unlike any I’d seen before. The floor had been stripped of its carpet and three, massive tubs were positioned on the floor in front of a large, stone fireplace.
The servants appeared undisturbed by my bonds.
I worried they would leave my hands tied, but no…
I was finally, finally released. With a groan and a shudder, rolling my very painful shoulders and trying to bend my elbows to lift my hands, I was quickly stripped by the women and my elbows supported until I could sit down in the water so hot it threatened to burn.
Goosebumps peppered every inch of my skin, and the heat leeched tension from sore, tired muscles. As I sank into the water, I groaned almost as deeply as I had in loving Voski.
I would have relaxed, and leaned back against the higher end of the tub, but one of the women began folding my leathers—including my belt and the attached sheath. My herbs were in the pocket.
I hadn’t been able to take the measured dose since we’d traveled, but I believed I’d been fairly accurate, surreptitiously sprinkling the herbs on my food, or twice, simply throwing some in my mouth and swallowing with the water when I was served it.
I didn’t believe Breckon had noticed, and except for that first day, I hadn’t skipped the herbs—memories of Voski hissing in my ear to keep taking them never left me.
But now, they would disappear, and depending on how the servants had been told to handle my possessions, this might be the end of my herbs, and my access to the knife.
“Would you mind putting those aside for me?” I offered casually, in the tone I’d heard so many of the court use with their servants.
The women went still, then looked at me, alarmed. “I beg your pardon, Ma’am?”
I smiled gently and held her wide gaze, praying she’d respond to the kindness.
“There are medicinal herbs in the pockets,” I said, nodding toward the leathers, because it still hurt to raise my arms. “And they… they must be foraged by the light of the full moon, and cut with Damascus steel,” I blurted, scrambling for a reason to keep the blade. “If you could just—”
“I’m not familiar with that spell. Explain.”
I almost swallowed my tongue when Breckon arrived through a door on the side that must lead directly from his chambers. He wore nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist and looked down his nose at me.
My head shrieked—I was naked! I sat up, hugging my knees hurriedly to cover myself.
“Well?” he demanded. I realized he’d been speaking to me. And now I needed to make an excuse.
“Th-they were given to me by a h-healer,” I said, swallowing hard. “To aid fertility and wellness.”
“A spell for your Furyknight?” he sneered. “Destroy them,” he shot to the girl.
“No! My Lord! If you truly wish to have a child—”
He whirled on me. “Do not attempt to convince me to aid your fertility with another man.”
Both the servants who’d followed us in, stiffened. The guards didn’t even blink.
I wanted to spit in his face, but I knew that wouldn’t serve me or Voski in this. “Please,” I murmured, dropping my chin, though it wasn’t necessary in my rank. “The herbs were given to me for… for my wedding. Not for a particular man,” I said breathlessly, as if I was afraid to speak.
He went still.
“There is a history in my family, generations blessed only with a single child. The healer—an apothecary—assured me that these herbs would aid me in producing more. But they must be taken every day, and cut by that blade,” I said, praying that the simple etching on the side of my Furyknight blade would convince anyone who looked closely, that the metal was something special, not a simple leather knife.
Breckon stared at me for long seconds, but I only pleaded with my eyes, until he turned and said to the maid who’d picked up my clothing, “Save the herbs for her—and the blade. But place them in one of my lock-boxes. I’ll provide them to her each morning.”
My heart sank as he turned back to me, yet, I made certain my expression was relieved and I ducked my head again. “Thank you.”
Inside, I wanted to weep. How would I ever use the blade on him if it was locked up? But at least it wouldn’t be destroyed.
Perhaps when Voski arrived, we could steal it back. Or…
The servant darted out of the room, and dropped my head to my knees, praying Breckon would leave.
But Breckon was having none of it.
“Bathe her,” he said with a sly smile in his tone. “Bathe every inch. She stinks. It’s been days.”
I would have been so glad to be properly bathed, if only I didn’t have to do it under his eyes.
Cheeks heating I turned my head. “My Lord… please. I am… we are not yet married.”
“Not by my choice,” he muttered.
“I wish to prove my virtue. If I might bathe without—”
“You will bathe in my audience, or not at all,” he snapped. “If I’m to wait to impregnate you, I will at least enjoy the view of what’s to come.”
I wanted to weep, but I wouldn’t allow him to see my distress. So, with a stiff nod and my jaw tight, I turned my back to him and sank back into the water, keeping my knees together and one arm over my breasts.
The remaining maid hurried to my side and plunged a washcloth below the surface, rubbed a pat of soap on the dripping cloth, then lifted one of my feet up, out of the water, extending my leg so that she could reach all sides.
To my horror, there was the snap of a flint and when I instinctively jerked to look, I found Breckon standing, fully naked, alongside the nearby tub, lighting a cigar. He took a long draw, puffing it out with a smile as he stepped into the next tub, and smoked while he soaked, watching me.
Leering.
I sat in the bath, praying that he was low enough now that his view was obscured by the side of my bath, yet mortified, because he openly watched while the servant scrubbed every inch of my body, just as he’d instructed her to do.
Then, she urged me to lie down and arch my head back so she could wash my hair.
The only way to get my head back far enough to be washed properly was to hold the sides of the tub in my hands and use them to hold my weight. But my shoulders were so sore, and my body so stiff, at first I couldn’t even lean back.
Breckon, of course, was certain I was only trying to avoid baring myself, and swore.
“Either be washed, or stand at the fire to dry before my eyes,” he growled.
I swallowed, whispered for the maid to please support my neck as I couldn’t yet bend it back very well, then closed my eyes tightly, and arched backward, holding the tub, refusing to watch him look at me.
But I could feel his eyes on my body, and it made me shake.
Once my hair was clean, and I could straighten, I was forced to open my eyes to take a new grip on the tub to lift myself.
Breckon’s eyes were avid. Hungry.
It struck me that the same blaze in Voski’s gaze burned my insides to ash and made me want. But in Breckon, it turned my stomach, and made me ill.
My saving grace was a knock on the door.
The maid who’d taken my leathers stepped inside, her brows rising when she found the Lord in the bath alongside me, but she didn’t speak, only hurried to curtsey politely.