by Alexia Praks
After a moment of shoveling dresses about, her hands froze. She knew that something was not right. She turned to look at the maid. “You may leave,” she said as calmly as she could master though she knew her voice was shaking, echoing her own fear out into the room.
“M’ lady...” The maid looked at her for a fleeting moment and quickly lowered her eyes again, afraid to see the fear in those violet eyes and afraid of her own pity as well.
“What is it?” Ivy walked to the maid, searching into the very round face and grey eyes.
The maid shook her head and said instead, with her eyes downcast, “I will look for your gown, m’ lady. The duke specifically said that he wanted you to wear one of the gowns he had bought for you.” She stood hesitantly for a moment and then rushed to the wardrobe.
“Wait!” Ivy knew her voice was shaking, but she really couldn’t help it. There was something wrong, and it was probably because of her.
The maid stopped and turned.
“You must tell me where Lisa is,” she asked, touching the maid’s shoulder. “You must know, err...?”
“Oh, it’s Meg, m’ lady,” the maid supplied. “I’m the parlourmaid.”
“Meg, please understand that Lisa is not only my maid, she is also my friend. If there is something that has happened to her, I must know.”
The maid turned to look at Ivy. After a moment she sighed. “M’ lady, ‘tis not my place but the duke, he was mad, he was always mad, but not this mad if you know what I mean.”
Ivy didn’t know what the maid meant, for she herself had always seen him in some kind of foul mood.
“You see, Lisa and Mrs. Price, there will be a new housekeeper I trust and a new butler, too. But I really don’t know how we’ll cope.”
“Yes, Meg, what about Lisa and Mrs. Price? And the new butler? Meg, I don’t understand.”
“Oh, m’ lady, ‘tis not my place to gossip. I don’t want to get into trouble. The duke--he’ll give me the sack, too, if he finds out I was talking.” She shook her head. “Please, m’ lady, stop asking me questions.”
There was no use interrogating the maid, Ivy thought. The woman was determined not to talk.
Meg helped her dressed into a delicate Primrose gown and fashioned her hairs into ringlets. Once her toilette was finished, she didn’t bother looking at herself in the mirror. She knew that something was not right, and she was determined to find out. As soon as the maid turned her back, she limped up the stairs and into the servant’s quarter. She went to Lisa’s door and barged in without knocking.
Shock was probably the major part of her turmoil feelings right then and next came anger.
“What are you doing?” she asked, limping into the room.
“You shouldn’t be here, m’ lady, ‘tis the servant quarter,” Lisa said calmly.
“Just tell me what you think you’re doing,” she snapped, her voice was now shaking.
“M’ lady, you must admit that someday we have to part—”
“No!” she cut in sharply. “We don’t ever have to part. You are my friend, you think to leave me?” She stared at the maid, her eyes brewing with tears.
Lisa lowered her eyes and turned to pack her clothing.
Suddenly, Ivy knew Lisa did not want to leave by her own free will. What was it that Meg had said? A new butler and a new housekeeper. How were they going to cope?
Oh God!
She shook her head as she staggered backward.
“M’ lady, don’t faint!” Lisa shouted.
Ivy slumped on the floor, her hands clutching her stomach as tears streamed down her pale cheeks. She was shaking her head as she repeated again and again to herself, “No, no, no...”
“M’ lady, I’m sorry.” Lisa sat down and embraced her.
“Oh, Lisa, it was all my fault, it was all my fault. Now I will have no one,” she cried, shaking her head, hating herself for her weakness and hating every turns of her miserable life.
“M’ lady, ‘tis not your fault. We will leave in the morrow morning. I wish all the best for your life. You must be strong, m’ lady.”
“’Tis all my fault, if it wasn’t for me wanting to go to the town so much, you and the others wouldn’t be sacked, ‘tis my fault.”
“Hush, you must be strong, ‘tis not your fault,” Lisa soothed, patting her shoulder.
“What’s going on here?”
Ivy turned to see Mrs. Price standing at the doorway.
“Mrs. Price!” she cried and rushed up to hug the woman. “I’m sorry, ‘tis my fault. You lie to the duke for me and now you’re sacked. ‘Tis my fault.”
“M’ lady, ‘tis not your fault.” The woman patted her shoulder. “Lisa, take Lady Ivy to her room.”
Lisa stood up and helped Ivy down the stairs. They were at the corridor when Ivy stopped.
“M’ lady, what is it?”
“I’m fine, Lisa, I need to be alone.”
Lisa looked at her for a moment, nodded, and then left. When the maid had disappeared, she turned and limped down the stairs as fast as she could. Once she reached the door she barged right in and all the while her heart was bumping hard in her chest.
Max looked up and frowned when he saw her. He stood up and walked toward her. “You’re not to be here, did I not tell you that?” he scolded as he grabbed for her arm.
She jerked his hand away. “Why?” she started.
“What’s this?” he asked, reaching for her arm again.
“Why did you sack them?” She glared at him, hating him for making her life miserable. “If you want to punish somebody for what happened then punish me. It was me that wanted to go to town. It was me that pleaded them not to tell. It was me, your grace. Punish me, not them. They’re only guilty for wanting to see me happy.”
“Aye and they dare to disobey me—the master. That, my dear, deserve the punishment. If they lie to me, they are not worth living in my house, they are not worth working for me.”
“You devil!” she cried, glaring up at him with hatred.
“Have you only figured that out, my dear?”
“Damn you, punish me, I was the one in the wrong. Whip me, lock me up for weeks, starve me if you want to, just don’t sack them. They have nothing to do with this,” she shouted each word angrily, tears streaming down her flushed face.
Max frowned at her. Did she think him such a monster? To whip her beautiful skin and lock her up and starving her?
He caught her by the arm and forced her to look up at him. “Listen, I am the master here. I punish whomever I know is in the wrong. Now get out!” he said, “Out or else I’ll whip you.”
“Then whip me, your grace, whip me and leave them alone. Don’t sack them,” she cried.
“Get out, Ivy.” He pulled her toward the door. “They are sacked and that is final.”
“Nay, please...” She sank her knees to the floor. “Please...” She sat there by his legs, staring up at him. “Any thing, your grace, just don’t sack them.”
He narrowed his eyes as he stood there, looking down at her from his great height.
Her eyes were large with tears wetting her thick, dark lashes, turning them spiky. Her cheeks flushed red and her breasts were rising and falling as she breathed. He was aroused. My God, but the woman was enchanting.
“Punish me instead of them, your grace. Do anything with me but don’t sack them. They have nowhere to go. Please...”
He lowered himself and caught hold of her chin. Staring into her eyes, he said, “You would do anything to save their jobs?”
She nodded her head and said, “Yes.”
“Rather unfair, don’t you think? One tiny, insignificant chit to save three jobs?” He raised his blonde brows at her.
“Oh, your grace, ‘tis a poor substitute I know but it was my fault and not theirs. You, you could punish me in such a way as to make...make it fair,” she said, shivering at the thought that perhaps he would whip her, lock her up, and then starve her for weeks.
; The part she feared most was the whipping. Her mother had ordered Gale to whip her many times before. Those were nightmare, but Gale was only a thin woman with a woman’s strength. What of the duke? He was, after all, a man and a very large and strong one at that. He could beat her up at this moment with his bare hand, and she would die in a slip of a second.
“Aye, you would do anything to save them.”
She nodded.
“Ivy,” he said, staring into her eyes.
His timbre voice echoed in her head, making her wonder fearfully what punishment he would perform upon her person so that it seem fair to save three jobs.
“I want you to come to me by your own free will.”
She stared at him, dumbfounded. And as she was staring at him she didn’t know that she was shaking her head.
How could she overcome that feat? Living with him was hard enough but to go to him with her own free will?
“I know you’re not up to it but that is want I want. Tomorrow, Ivy, without my permission, they will be banished.” He stood up and walked out on her.
She sat there, gazing at the floor.
How could he possibly ask such a thing from her? Oh God, this was the worst punishment ever. Whipping her, locking he up, and even starving her all together didn’t even add up to this cruelty.
CHAPTER 14
Ivy sat in bed and clutched the thick blankets in front of her. Her room was warm due to the burning fire in the hearth, but she was shivering from head to toe. Her stomach was hallowed, and it refused to take in food. She was not worried about food, however, for she was not at all hungry, and right at that very moment, it was the least of her worries.
She had been sitting in bed for at least two hours, staring into space. She turned to look at the clock on the wall to her right. It was midnight. Her stomach knotted as the long hand ticked away every second. She knew that every passing second meant her time was getting shorter. In only six more hours the people she cared about would be gone, and she would have no idea if she would ever be able to see them again.
She turned her gaze to the door, staring at it but not seeing it.
It was her fault. Why was she such a coward and not owning up to her action? Donald and Mrs. Price had lost their important jobs because of her.
Nay, she told herself, she would not be a coward and let others fall victims because of her own stupidity for some small happiness.
She took a deep breath and quickly, before she had the chance to change her mind, she rushed off the bed and limped toward the door. She opened it and slipped outside.
Shutting the door behind her, she leaned against it and closed her eyes to summon her strength. A fleeting second later, she fluttered her eyes open and stared across the corridor. She stared at that door so hard she thought her eyes would probably pop out of her being if she stared much longer.
She forced her right foot to step forward. It did as she commanded though reluctantly, and with such a force of shivering, she thought it would collapse on her. Again, she swallowed and forced her other foot forward. This one was not any eager either. After a few steps, she gained her confidence and started walking a bit faster.
After what seemed like an eternity, she reached the door. She put her hand on the handle. Biting her lower lip, she commanded herself to stop trembling as though she was going to her own execution.
She turned the handle slowly.
Quietly, the door opened wider as though welcoming her into the mouth of a lion.
Stop it! She told herself. You are not going into your own execution. You are doing this to save the people you care about.
The moment she stepped into the dark threshold, she wanted to run back so badly. However, she stubbornly held root to the spot, refusing to be a coward.
She took a deep breath and limped a few more steps into the room.
It was large, as she had always remembered it. She looked around her surrounding and felt the warmth of her father embracing her. Her fear dissipated and she felt a calmness settling within her. It was always like this every time she stepped into her father’s bedroom. Knowing that he was there would put her fear away. Now was no different. She was lost in thought of her childhood for a moment. Then she was jolted back to reality.
She turned to her left and gasped. There, standing in the shadow of the dimly lit room was the Duke of Lynwood. He was dressed in a dark Banyan. His face was hard and his eyes were sharp as he stared down at her. His hands were clasped behind his back. His stance indicated power and strength. She felt like a little rabbit hopping into a wolf’s den ready to be ripped to pieces and devoured.
“I...I...” She was lost for words. When she couldn’t find what else she should say, she frowned, starting to hate the man for seeing her in such an awkward position.
He didn’t say anything, just walked to his very large, elegant bed and stood beside it.
She commanded herself to stay calm and told herself that everything was going to be all right.
“Your grace...” she said and paused. Her voice, she noticed, was still shaking and she hated that very much. She hated the fear she heard in her own voice and knew that it radiated her fear inside.
“Your grace, I am here, will...willingly and, and freely,” she choked out, tears beginning to brew in her eyes.
“Your own free will, Ivy?” he mocked. “I wonder.”
“Aye, your grace, my own free will. I am here. Take me. Give the servants back their jobs,” she stammered.
“Is this what you really want?” he asked with his brows raised.
“Aye, your grace, this is what I want,” she replied.
“By your own free will?” he asked as he cocked his head to one side and studied her. He could tell she was shaking from head to toe.
“Aye, your grace,” she said, clutching her midsection.
He was quiet, staring at her, searching through her eyes deep into her soul. Then he bombed out into the quietness, his voice rough and deep. “Come here!”
She sucked in her breath and nearly fainted. She bit her lip to control her fear. She told herself to calm down though her beating heart refused to listen to her logical reason.
After a moment of hesitation, she stepped forward. She lowered her gaze to the floor as she slowly advanced toward him. Once she was near him, which was about two arm-lengths away, she stopped.
“Come closer.”
She bit her lip, furrowing her brows with concern.
“You call that your own free will when you don’t have the guts to stand two inches away from me?”
She bolted her gaze to him, and blushing, she walked five more steps and stopped only when she thought that she was only two inches exactly away from him.
He smiled though his eyes were still sharp. He lowered his lips to her ear and said, “Show me, sweet Ivy, how you come to me by your own free will.”
She stared up at him with her eyes wide. How could she show him when she didn’t even know anything about lovemaking and seducing? What was she to do?
“I...I,” she stammered.
He raised his brows, doubting her ability.
“I...I don’t know how,” she blurted out quickly.
She heard him sigh as he walked toward the armchair near the brightly lit hearth. He sank his large body into the comfortable seat, bent his head slightly as he watched her, and said, “I’m not a very patient man, Ivy, but since you are young and quite inexperience, I’m willing to be patient and see what you can do.”
She absorbed his comment quietly and nervously. Her hands were clutching her nightshirt. She knew she was shaking from head to toe but she couldn’t seem to help herself.
He was quiet for a long moment, and she thought he was waiting for her to reply. She tried to think of what she should say when he said, “Would you like me to guide you?”
His voice, she thought, was in such a commanding tone that she wanted to break down and weep until she has no more tears. He guiding her in this? She didn’t
know whether to thank him or curse him for his heartless consideration, but she nodded anyway. Somehow she felt relief, and instantly, she hated herself for that.
“Very well,” he said, nodding his head at her and then he lifted his hand up. “Come here.”
She stood rooted to her spot.
He stared at her.
Hesitantly, she started walking toward him and stopped in front of him.
“Take off that girlish nightshirt.”
She closed her eyes and wished with all her heart that the floor would open up and swallow her in.
She opened her eyes, knowing that he was watching her. With hands that tremble, she started to untie the strings at the base of her throat. Once she had done that, she pushed the material down one of her shoulder and slipped her arm out. With her eyes downcast, she did the same and slipped her other arm out. She clutched the material of the nightshirt to her breasts as she turned her gaze to him.
“Must...must I take...it off?” she asked.
“Must I repeat myself?” he said.
She bit her lip. She took a few deep breaths and reluctantly let go of the material. It slid down her body and lay like silk in a heap of pile around her ankles. She did not dare look at his face, for she feared what she might see there. She didn’t know what she feared specifically, however.
He stared at the beautiful young woman standing in front of him. Her skin was petal white and her raven tresses rest like silk behind her back. She was exquisite, and damn if he didn’t stare at her a bit too long. Not to mention that his breath was caught at the back of his throat the moment her nightgown dropped.
“Come, sit on my lap,” he said and knew his voice was growing thick with desire.
She hesitated, her gaze stubbornly fixed at her feet.
“If you are giving up, that’s fine,” he said calmly though he damn well knew that if she wanted to walk out on him he wouldn’t let her. Ravish her he would. What ever she decided, he would still get her in the end though he would prefer that she come to him with her own free will.
Without looking at him, Ivy approached him and sat on his hard, muscular legs. Was she a whore, she wondered sickly.
