…his experiments, all necessary in treating and improving the conditions and health of citizens in his charge. Oft-times his concentration had been so intense that he would look up and around to note he could not hear Suga, or her dog that followed closely by her side. He'd bend his ear to locate her upstairs, but her tread was so light, he could not be certain and would have to rise – taking a break to find her.
Another time, he went in search for her, growing anxious and called out her name, “Suga!? Where are you?” and to his embarrassment, she had been tucked away in the same room with him, sewing, Moose-Taima at her feet – neither of them making a sound. “Good god, say something, make a noise! Sneeze, cough, clear your throat, ask me something!” He'd sputtered - for her to stare up at him, clearly perplexed. “Why? Don' wanna botha' you mas-...”
“That's it! That will be the last slip! Never again are you to make that error, I am not your master! Quinton – you hear? I am Quinton and you – are much too quiet! It is not normal for a woman to be so silent all the time. Have I asked for such silence?” He demanded. “No … Quinton.”
“Then why are you?”
“Don' wanna be no botha'.” She murmured low.
“Suga, you've been here now, more than a couple of weeks, have I ever indicated that you were a bother to me?”
She stared at him a moment, saying carefully, “In-di-cated?”
“Means, to point out, to inform one, to make known – in other words, have I said, Suga – you bother me?”
“No sa' – don' want you to, I'mma stay quiet.”
He drooped, the air went right out of him with his shoulders sagging, he moved forward and dropped to his knees at her feet, beside Moose-Taima, he stroked the animal’s ear while gazing into her eyes.
“Suga, you are – a delight...” He announced sincerely, reaching up, he caressed her cheek, “... I look forward to – each moment that something you do – brings my attention to you. I – I know you've taken to sleeping on the sofa – I so wish you would not – there was no need.”
Her eyes grew wide.
“I would not hurt you Suga, nor would I force upon you, something you did not want – this includes me. When, if – you would allow it – I would have you beside me, again.” He asked hopefully. He did all that he could to stay busy, to take his mind off the fact that he wanted her, in his bed, the way a man does a woman.
He’d made that known to her three days before – and yet, she still had not come to his bed, he would not force her, but it was becoming impossible to ignore what she did to his peace of mind; the urges of his body were crying out for the touch of a woman, not any woman, her touch – Suga's – she was the one who was now invading his sleep, plaguing his dreams. This was the first time that a woman had crept into his slumber, to stir him awake in the night with a longing that kept him up, for hours. He'd tried getting her upstairs to sleep in his bed again, but not since that day they'd been awakened by the banging at the door; and he'd gone on the call returning with goods and with Moose. Her excuse for avoiding him was that she had to be near when Moose needed to go outside. He'd grumbled in his mind, keeping it to himself, but the dog seemed to have taken first order over him, in his own home, with his own servant – in truth a position he really didn't see her in, he wanted her for the gift to him that she was given. He hated having to admit that to himself, realizing he was sinking into the very desires he disdained, using someone because he could. He had no God given right to take her, but he wanted to, yes – he wanted her, and that, he could not deny. However, he would not cross the line – he would not force himself on her.
Even so, he was doing all that he could to let her know; subtle brushes against her, standing extra close when in truth there was no need, staring at her mouth, into her eyes. If that were not enough, since that first day he'd carried her home, no longer was there a worry over her, she bathed often, kept herself neat and clean, wearing only fresh clothing. She'd also fashioned a strange looking comb for her hair, reminding him of a pitch fork with more tines. He wasn't sure when she combed her hair, but it was always neat and freshly braided.
She'd taken her hair from the many corn rows, to a couple of high French braids upon her head, leaving twirled tendrils to hang and beckon him near to touch them. The longer she was with him, the prettier she became in his eyes – the more desirable, it was getting so he could see no other but her.
Outside of her denying him her presence in his bed, he could find no complaint with her, not one - she kept not only herself and her things clean, but his things as well.
In such a short time, she'd trained Moose-Taima to whine at the door when he wished to go out and he was growing rapidly – he wondered what she fed the animal?
One particular day, in which his studies were so intense he allowed the silence to go on longer than usual, he suddenly heard the rumble of thunder and noted how grey the day had gone, almost dark as night, he turned, assuming she was there, “Ah a storm is brewing it would seem-...” he stopped, aware that he was talking to himself, that he was alone.
“Suga!? Suga where are you?!” He stood from his stool needing to stretch his back and aching muscles. “Suga? Moose? Where are you two!?” He walked from one room to another, lightning flashed then soon the rumble of the thunder again. He went out the kitchen door, across the length of their yard to the barn, expecting to see her in there. “Suga, come on in now, it'll be pouring soon-...”
Once more he tapered off, realizing she was not in the barn – however, what he did notice was her gown and chemise laying across the hay pen. Immediately his adrenaline shot full force as he rushed out the barn, looking around and then towards the woods surrounding them at the opposite end of town. He made a dash for them, looking around the small field, waiting to see if he spotted anyone, and when he didn't, he began yelling out,
“SUGA?! SUGAAAA?! SUGAAAAA?!”
Feeling a panic coming on he rushed further within the woods; rain drops were falling, breaking through the forest canopy and deeper he went, “SUUUG-GAAAAA?!” He suddenly stopped to hear a bark coming towards him, he knew that bark. “Moose-Taima!” He whistled to him and ran towards the sound, the rainfall increased, coming down hard and steady, more lightening and seconds later, thunder.
“MOOSE! Where are you boy?” Once more, rapid barks as if he was trying to lead him to where they were. Quinton's heart hammered like mad, wondering why she wasn't calling out to him? Was she hurt? Was she in danger, had something happened to her?
With each worrying thought, his adrenaline rose to such a pitch the surface of his skin felt pricked by a thousand needles, frightened that something was happening to her, or had happened to her.
The rain was loud, torrential pelting the leaves of the trees violently, in the mix of it all his heart and his mind rushing ahead to warn him that he was about to find her in a state that would break him. He'd known her less than a month and he raced ahead as if the idea of not having her with him, unimaginable.
“Please God, please – let her be okay, please...” He begged as he ran, soaked by the rain – he wasn't sure how fast he was moving, or how far within he went until he caught movement out the side of his eye and turned to it.
She must have seen him, because she stood, frozen, breathing hard, almost naked in the woods and rain, wearing only the thin string undergarment he’d first seen her in, and the fawn colored hide that fitted her upper body loosely – barely concealing her breasts – her strong legs, thighs, hips, rear -bare! Her small waist, flat stomach – bare! Arms and… bare chest! At her bare feet, a female deer, a doe, dead, gutted – laying open, its hind legs tied with a rope, which went up a tree and back down again, to Suga's hand. He couldn't believe his eyes.
He stood soaking wet, staring at her, also soaking wet – the blood on her body, was being washed away, her hands and the knife she wielded dripped rain and blood.
He couldn't speak.
“Help me! Got's t'get it up that tree! Fox
gone get my kill – or wolf! It's my kill!” She proclaimed, as if an animal herself, standing and yelling through the downpour at him. When he didn't move, she turned back to what she'd been doing, tugging on the rope with all of her might, using the weight of her body to try and hoist the deer up.
“QUINTON! HELP MEEE!” She snapped him out of his trance. He rushed forward, his mind reeling, “This is madness! You are simply mad! Look at you! My God – what… who have you given me?”
“We got's t'get it high! Way up high!” She yelled, ignoring his words.
Quinton looked up high, into the tree where she wanted it – to be shocked further – there for him to see, were several dead carcasses, rabbits, gutted – hanging upside down; wild turkeys, pheasants, the same – ducks, several geese, hanging from the tree limbs, swinging by the breeze. His eyes snapped back to her.
“WHERE IN -...” He stopped shouting, once more, she was no longer beside him, but climbing up an adjacent tree, rope gripped between her teeth, using her hands and bare feet to grip, push and brace herself…
…her body corded with muscles, flexing with her demands upon it; she took the rope to a strong thick branch – looped it over and then hopped over as well, grabbed the rope and starting dropping to the ground, the deer came up off the ground right past his face to stop level, with the doe's dead eyes, looking into his, “MY GOD!! WHO HAVE YOU GIVEN ME???” He shouted again – shaken by what he saw – she was a woman after all – a small fragile creature herself, wasn’t she?
“HELP ME!” She called to him, coming to the ground. He could do nothing else but run to her aid, grabbing her wet slick body by the waist, he pulled her down and then took over the rope, pulling it to get the deer even higher. She helped him and soon, it was high up off of the ground. She wrapped the anchoring rope high around the tree trunk and before he could blink, she was up another tree, securing the rope from the reach of any passer-by.
He stood with his mouth open, rain pouring down his face and off his chin, some going into his mouth. With his next blink, she was landing on the ground before him, “Come, it gone storm!” She yelled at him, running ahead back through the woods, the flanks of her wet, firm round buttocks flexing and pumping to propel her forward, Moose-Taima, running after her. He stopped, looked back at him, barking at him as if to say, 'Come on – what are you waiting for?'
Quinton snapped out of it once more and started running to catch up to them but she was well out of sight.
She was fast! Faster than he'd ever known a woman could move. By the time he'd made it back to the barn, she'd been there and left, chemise, gown – no longer hanging there for him to see. No sign of her dog either for that matter, they were in this thing together – the two of them – he was left out.
Quinton resented it.
He turned from the barn and made his way towards the house, there was no sense rushing, running, even with the rain coming down in sheets now from a dark grey sky, he was as wet as he could get, no way to guard from getting any wetter – so what was the hurry? His mood, within the previous 40 minutes, had gone from curious as to her whereabouts, to worry, then fright, and upon discovering her, her activities – shock!
Now, anger, verging on fury? His stride reflected the storm raging around them as he went through the back door – she was not in the kitchen. He walked down the hall, dripping all the way, to his cozy room with the fireplace, where she'd brought order to his books, the furniture within, his cabinets with their vials, his writing desk, all was in perfect order. He turned, a puddle growing at his feet, to hear the dog coming down the stairs, her behind it. She stopped in the hallway, staring at him with wide innocent eyes, eyes of one he could never have imagined doing the things he'd caught her doing; in her hand, towels – no doubt for him.
“Quinton – brung you towels to dry – you wet-...”
“I'm wet! I'm wet?! Is that all you have to say? That I'm wet? Yes, so I am wet! Know why I'm wet? I'll tell you why-...”
“Dry yo'self firs’, Quinton.” She pleaded softly, looking contrite and humble.
He didn't want her help, and told her so, snatching the towel from her. “Give me that! I can dry myself - thank you!”
She bowed her head, chewing her lip, hands behind her back looking as if innocent of all charges, holding clothing for him. “Ohhh no you don't! No – you – don't! I'm not fooled by that look, no – I'm not! Not at all!” He huffed, drying his head of curls first, glaring at her through the towel opening.
“Well? Let me hear it! You – young lady have a lot of explaining to do! Once more, you disappear and where do I find you? Where?! Yes, we both know where! Why – why – were you – once more, as you were – in the woods – the woods I repeat – naked – yes – bare arsed – for all to see – like ah – ah ah ah – wild – unrestrained – wood nymph!” He was so angry he was shaking, repeating himself, fumbling for words.
“Wha's a wood nymph – Quinton?” She asked, wishing to know its meaning. He stopped, snatched the towel from his head, “YOU!”
“That – good or – bad?” She asked hesitantly, and added, “Take them cloths off Quinton, they wet.”
He began yanking the buttons from the holes of his shirt, glaring at her, trying to decide how to answer her question. He yanked his shirt off over his head, she took it, and passed him a dry one. “Them britches too...”
“I know – I know!” He blasted – still glaring at her, trying to figure her out and finally after pulling the shirt down over his head, then going to his pants, saying as he did so, “You know what you are? Wild! My God – as wild as they come! I for one have never heard of a fancy being such a way! I thought they were well mannered, taught etiquette, as graceful and delicate as ah – ah – ah – well – a lady! Not – slinging rats about! Not hunting and skinning and hanging game from trees! Not to mention – climbing them – your arse bare! My God – my God!” He shook his head, passing her his sodden breeches, dripping stockings and taking dry ones of each in return. The whole time, she stood listening, eyes big, not muttering a word in her defense. “I'll have you know, I've been to Africa, have witnessed the most fierce of hunters – oh yes I have! Have heard stories of Indians and their hunting skills – but not once in all that time, had I heard or seen the likes of anything like you!”
“You ain't gone give me away is you?” She asked, worriedly.
He stood to his full height staring at her as if she'd lost her mind, in that instant, he knew, regardless of how he’d found her, he could never entertain the idea of giving her away.
“Don't be absurd - you are mine – and – mine to keep.” He blushed then, but meant every word. She smiled.
“Ah, so there it is. Well don't smile so soon, I see what it is you need, I am going to have to mold you, shape you, make you into the lady you should be. When I am done, running about the woods in the all-together will be the last idea to enter your mind for I will be filling it with too many other things! To start, I will have to see about more clothing for you, I cannot expect you to conduct yourself as a lady while dressing you as a common servant, you are not. There is, nothing at all, common about you.”
She looked to the floor, her heart filled with gladness.
Gently, his fingers appeared below her chin, lifting her face – urging her to look into his eyes.
“I – I feared for you today – in a way – I cannot possibly convey. I do not care – to experience such feelings again. What must I do, to keep you from your ventures? How can I possibly make you understand, such actions endanger you – thus, frighten me?”
“Got's to do my bit; no livestock, no meat – got to keep you fed right, keep you strong, so you ain't sick. The dark take you, what I'm gone do? Where I'm gone be? Don't wanna be nowhere, but here, wit you.” She spoke up, looking into his eyes.
“You say such things, yet – you avoid my bed, why?”
“If – if you – really want me there, I come – if you want me to.”
�
��But you don't want to, do you? I can see it that you don't – do I not stir you at all? What is it that you see in me, that I repel you so? My white skin?”
“What others of my kind have done to you and your kind? What can I possibly do, that you don't fear me? Detest me?”
“Wha's – detest?” Her eyes squinted as she tried to understand. Quinton stood thinking about it – to give her a meaning she would fully understand, as it came to him, he sighed, “The feeling you felt, when in that ship and the rats bothered you, how you felt about them.” He explained patiently.
Her eyes grew even more round, “Nooo, that ain't how I feel 'bout you. I feel – I feel...” She swallowed deep, took a deep breath and tried to explain, “...when you talk t'me, I hear yo' voice, my heart can't be still, it beat so hard, 'cause you fill me with, joy – I feel so glad to be yours – I feel so good – you talk to me, you take care'o'me, so – I got t'take care'o'you too.”
He stepped closer to her, both hands at her soft cheeks, “Then why, won't you come to me?”
At first she shrugged and then, closing her eyes, savoring him so near, she rubbed her cheeks even more against his palms, “One day, when you have yo'fill – you gone get rid'o'me. Let otha' men have me, once you have yo'fill.”
“Ohhh Suga, my sweet – sweet gift – I will never, have my fill of you, please believe me.” He spoke gently, a catch in his throat, because no one suited him more than she did. Because of her he was able to get so much more studying done, he seemed to focus better, was more driven, was not so bogged down with worries over things he should get to, but made those things wait. Now, with Suga around, all things were as if they took care of themselves, even though, he knew, she did all those things. In such a short time, she knew – she anticipated his need for refreshment and was ready with his preferred brew – he was a tea drinker, and she kept it ready for him, he'd only had to tell her once how he liked it, and she had served it that way ever since.
The Fancy Page 5
