Innocence Enslaved

by Maddie Taylor

  Who was he fooling? Play acting or not, he planned to do that regardless, because God help him, it was the only way.

  Chapter Nine

  Corbet was waiting at the bottom of the stairs when Emilia descended that morning.

  “Good morning,” he murmured in greeting, more gruffly than she was used to.

  She considered him a moment, worried he might be ailing. “Are you well this morning, sir?”

  “Yes, although I had little sleep.” While he spoke, he took her arm and led her down the hall and into the dining room. “I didn’t arrive home until very late last night, long after you were abed. It couldn’t be helped.”

  “I understand. I know you are a busy man.”

  “Mm,” he murmured distractedly, as he closed the door behind them. “I didn’t accomplish all that I intended, and must go back today. You will accompany me.”

  “Truly?” It didn’t sound like he was giving her a choice, but a trip to town with him sounded wonderful.

  “Yes, but before you get too excited, remember the public role you agreed to play.”

  The rush of eagerness she’d felt at his news faded as quickly as it had come.

  “I shall try to make this as easy on you as possible, Emilia. In truth, I have something I think you might like that will help you play your part.” He crossed to a chest across the room and returned with a good-sized, linen-wrapped package.

  “Open it,” he urged.

  Never one to pass up a gift, especially one that was a surprise, she took it. When she pulled on the thin strings, the wrapping fell away to reveal a wealth of emerald green fabric and cream lace. “Oh,” she cooed excitedly, trailing her fingers over its softness. Coming across stitching and boning, she realized it had already been sewn into a gown. Shaking it out, she held it up, admiring the lace edging on the hem and cuffs, as well as the full skirt that pooled on the floor.

  “It’s stunning,” she breathed, unable to take her eyes off the most beautiful gown she’d ever seen.

  “I thought it would suit you and I’m glad to see I was right. The color will bring out the deep green of your eyes and will be a stunning contrast to your pretty red hair.”

  A twinge of warmth spread through her cheeks. With a sidelong glance at him, she noticed his eyes gleamed as he spoke, as if he were imagining her already in it. No man had ever looked at her like that before. Certainly, men had gazed upon her with hungry, lustful intent, but Corbet was different. His was a more tender desire that created an odd quiver in her belly, making her face flush all the more.

  “It’s befitting a queen. Won’t people get the wrong impression?”

  “Probably not of a queen, though without doubt it’s a quality garment.” Taking the dress from her, he held it up against her as though judging the fit. “As for impressions, I usually don’t care what others may think. Today, however, I want them to see the beauty I possess and why I don’t need or want a wife.”

  Emilia’s joy diminished somewhat with his words. Yes, they had a bargain, but she had thought his enjoyment over the gown was about her, not about what the townspeople would think and how that played into his plans. It was a foolish notion.

  He must have realized the slight he had given, for he set the garment aside, and then clasped her shoulders in his hands.

  “I meant no offense by that, sweetling. No matter the game we play, Emilia, you have value beyond measure. I knew the moment you were brought to the block that you weren’t a lowly peasant or slave. It would have been clear to anyone there had they really looked. Thus, I think the gown suits you, who is more beautiful than any queen, perfectly.”

  “Thank you, sir,” she whispered shyly. The quiver grew into a definite flutter as a sudden warmth rushed through her veins, and both settled between her thighs, making her tingle—a not altogether unpleasant sensation. Was this the yearning that the bards and minstrels constantly extolled? She wasn’t sure, but it both excited and scared her at the same time.

  “Turn around,” he directed quietly, guiding her until her back was to him. His fingers began to gently release the buttons down the back of her dress, making the fluttery feeling in her belly come to a complete halt as she sucked in a breath.

  “What are you doing, sir?” she asked, full of anxiety.

  “Relax, dove. You cannot try on your new dress while still wearing this one.” His nimble fingers worked confidently down her back, brushing against her bare skin along her spine. “If any alterations need to be done, Alice can see to them while you bathe after breakfast.”

  “Perhaps we could call her now?” she squeaked in alarm. “Or Muriel?”

  “No, they are readying breakfast and calling either away would only delay our departure. Don’t worry, dove. I am a man of my word,” he murmured this next to her ear, “besides, I have already seen you naked and with your shift, you will remain sufficiently covered.”

  “But sir—” she tried to explain. It came too late as he slid the blue dress from her shoulders, letting it drop to the floor around her feet. She heard him inhale, slow and deep through his nose. “Emilia, where is your shift?”

  “I was not given one, sir.” Her face flamed as she stood before him, truly appalled to be once again before him bare as the day she was born. There was silence for several long moments, before he moved, steadying her as he helped her step out of the dress crumpled at her feet.

  “Why is a beauty such as you not already spoken for, or married?” he asked, his gaze shamelessly sliding down her body and back up. Something intense flared in his eyes a moment before he twisted and retrieved the green gown that he had draped over a nearby chair. He gathered it in his large hands and held it high, waiting until she lifted her arms. Her head became engulfed in yards of fabric to reemerge in a tangle of her hair. His capable fingers helped her hands through the long sleeves next.

  Now covered, she recalled his question. “My father had plans for me to wed, but I didn’t agree. As the youngest child I’m afraid I have been rather spoiled and with my mother’s support we begged my father not to marry me off. We convinced him I would be more useful to them at home, than bartering me to an old man I didn’t love, which is who he had in mind.”

  His hands moved to her waist and began working the laces up the back of the dress, his warm fingers sending little tingles up her spine. Her nipples tightened each time he brushed her skin. It became worse when he tugged at the strings that tightened the boning sewn into the bodice. The constriction plumped up her breasts until the upper curves swelled above the rounded neckline. Despite it being in the formal style that the noble women wore, it was more daring than anything she’d ever owned and made her feel wicked.

  He gave the laces another firm pull. “Suck in while I tie them.”

  When she did, he yanked and the stays in the dress compressed her ribs, sending the air rushing from her lungs.

  “Good girl,” he murmured, giving an affirming tug on the knot. The warm caress of his breath on her neck sent tingles throughout her body that blossomed in the heated place between her thighs. “Now turn and let me see you,” he ordered huskily, stepping back.

  The material was thick and somewhat stiff as she moved.

  “The gown is stunning on you. Not a head will go unturned in town today, but don’t be surprised if you get a few envious comments. Now walk around,” he said, waving to the large, open area of bare floor. “I want to see how it moves with you.”

  She took a few steps, watching with sidelong glances how his eyes scanned her waist and hips. As beautiful as the gown was, it was certainly not made for comfort. She’d be happier in the plain blue pile of cotton on the floor near her feet. But she couldn’t tell him that, not after he’d praised her appearance.

  “So lovely, the gown couldn’t fit any better.”

  “Thank you for the gift, sir. Never have I had a dress so fine.”

  * * *

  The little innocent had no idea what she was doing to him. If experienced,
a look down at the stiff rod in the front of his braes would tell her all she needed to know. It hadn’t only been from finding her bare under her dress, although he had almost come in his pants at the glorious sight of her curves and creamy skin, her full breasts as she’d faced him, and the tuft of red curls guarding the entrance to heaven below. God’s wounds, how would he endure having her so close and treating her as his pleasure slave? He would have to touch her, command her, and heaven help him, have her kneeling demurely at his feet.

  What he intended to give her next wouldn’t help, a sign of his ownership that would make him thrill at the thought of truly owning all her beauty, but for Emilia, it might be hard to take. But he was trying to make a point with their trip into town.

  “I have something else for you.” He moved to a small table nearby and pulled out a drawer.

  “Sir, the dress is too much already, really, I couldn’t—”

  “Nonsense,” he proclaimed, withdrawing a small wooden box.

  She stared at it a moment, then glanced up at him. He could see the pained expression in her eyes. “I do not deserve another gift.”

  “It’s not a gift, rather a necessary accessory for our outing.” He opened the box, sparing her that, and revealed the red velvet band inside.

  With a curious frown, she stared. Beneath the velvet was a one-inch-wide strap of leather with buckles on each end. In the center was an engraved gold emblem with his mark.

  “CM,” she whispered as she reached out and traced the lettering with her thumb. “It’s lovely, but these are your initials. I don’t understand.”

  “It’s a slave collar. It will show any who see you in town today that you belong to me.” He ignored the horrified expression on her face and lifted the choker from the box. “It is as much for your protection as anything else, Emilia.”

  He moved her long coppery braid out of the way and fastened the symbol of his ownership around her neck. Although snug, it wasn’t restrictive.

  Her fingers rose tentatively to touch it. “I feel branded.”

  Corbet choked back his alarm. “Has someone said something to you?”

  She hesitated, confusion flashing in her eyes. “About what, sir?”

  “Never mind. Be thankful I’m only requiring a collar. In Lancore, it’s customary for a new slave to be harnessed and leashed to the master when in public so that they don’t run, as you were the first day. I don’t wish to restrain you, so I am trusting that you will honor our arrangement and not attempt escape.”

  “Of course not, we made a bargain.” Her response was soft, yet detached, and he knew she was not happy about being displayed publicly as his slave.

  “The people of Lancore take much joy in spreading rumors and gossip about that which they don’t understand. Seeing that you are my slave, they will address their questions and comments to me, rather than to you, although, there will be some who tempt your attentions. I will require your complete obedience today, Emilia.” He pulled out her chair, looking down at her with earnestness as she settled into it. “I need your submission. It’s very important that people believe what they see. If they see you meek and compliant by my side, they will assume you are no longer a dove and that I have harnessed your will to my own.”

  “I understand. You shall have my utmost obedience.” He could see the sincerity in her expressive face, yet he knew she did not understand the depth of what he was saying.

  Alice and Muriel came in with their breakfast then and he took his seat across from her as they set their plates and glasses down before each of them. They ate in relative silence after that, each lost in their own thoughts. He finished first and noticed that she had done little more than push her food around her plate.

  “Aren’t you hungry?”

  She glanced up. Her hand rose to her throat, fingertips brushing her collar before she answered. “Not very.”

  “I know you’re nervous, but I won’t have you fainting from hunger. Eat your bread and drink your milk at least.”

  She nodded and picked up her honey-drenched, buttery slice of bread. In a few moments, she was licking the sticky sweet syrup from her fingers and had drained her glass. In the midst of her bad manners with a finger in her mouth, she flushed when she glanced up and caught him watching her.

  He grinned. “Delicious, wasn’t it?”

  “Yes.”

  “Would you like more?”

  “No, sir. My stomach is still a bit nervous.”

  “Very well then, stand up,” he said as he rose. “We need to have a few slave lessons before we go.” He waited until she was on her feet, then as though a master in truth, ordered sternly, “Kneel, slave.”

  Her chin came up as she stared at him in shock.

  “This is the obedience I spoke of, Emilia. You don’t hesitate or question your master’s commands; you follow them, immediately. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “You will call me master while we are in town or in public.”

  Her voice dropped to a whisper as she replied, “Yes, master.”

  “That’s it. Now, kneel, as I ordered, like an obedient slave.”

  She lifted her skirt and sank, rather clumsily, to her knees at his feet. Finding her adorable in her struggle with all he was throwing at her, he teased, “You’re new, so grace isn’t expected.”

  Thoroughly aghast at his comment, she blinked up at him. He grinned, purposefully letting his master façade slip as he winked at her. She breathed in relief, but it was short-lived when his next commands came.

  “Eyes down, place your hands palms up on your thighs.” She obeyed these with greater speed. He walked around her, as though inspecting her, trying to ignore the rush of arousal he experienced having this beautiful woman acquiescent and submissive before him. His fingers beneath her chin lifted her face up to his. “You make a very lovely slave. Try to ignore anyone else, except me. They will undoubtedly make rude comments.”

  She swallowed visibly and licked her dry lips. He ignored the reaction that habit had on him below the waist and tried to focus on the task at hand.

  “Stay by my side at all times,” he continued, rattling more instructions off. “Speak only when spoken to, don’t look anyone in the eye unless you are addressed, and when I tell you to kneel or I point to the floor, this is the position you will take, the picture of an obedient slave. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “No. Try again. What do you call me?”

  “Master.”

  “Very good.” He offered her his hand, which she took readily as he pulled her to her feet. “I’ll explain the rest on the way.”

  “The rest!” she gasped. “How much more can there be?”

  “I know it’s a lot, and quickly. Do you have any questions about what I’ve taught you so far?”

  She shook her head, but he felt the tremor pass through her. Doubt crept in; perhaps this was too much to ask of her. “Emilia, if you aren’t up to this—”

  “I am. I simply have to remember this is an act. You are quite forceful and convincing as a master.”

  His hand rose to her face, tipping it up so he could see her eyes. They were clear and trusting.

  “I will be fine. I’m only a bit leery of the townsfolk. Muriel told me that few in Lancore are as kind or fair as you. She mentioned how she and Alice were treated when they used to accompany you.”

  “You need not worry about that. As long as you do as you’re told and stay beside me, I can protect you and as you said, everything will be fine.” Corbet took her elbow, leading her out to the wagon.

  Chapter Ten

  Emilia listened to the soothing low tones of the handsome man next to her. She’d paid close attention at first as he gave her a few more rules, and repeated the others he had told her already. He reiterated for the twentieth time at least that she was not to leave his side, of which she had no intention, but when he explained that when they walked down the street she was to remain two step
s behind him with her eyes on his heels, she found herself getting distracted. She was also having trouble sitting still. The tingling between her legs that had started the moment he’d said “kneel” in his deep authoritative voice. Since then, she’d been warm and an ache had developed low in her belly. Her thoughts had turned to what it would be like to really be his slave, to kneel at his commands, to strip off her clothes, to bend over his desk with her legs spread wide for another spanking.

  The wagon wheel discovered yet another rut in the road, which was followed by a large tree root. As it jolted, her behind left the seat by several inches before she settled back by his side with a thump and a startled yelp.

  “Damn road is no better than a cow path,” he grumbled beside her. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes, master, it merely startled me.”

  “The taxes I pay for clearing and maintaining these roads are being put to good use as you can see.” After he grumbled a bit more, he lapsed back into his lecture on proper slave behavior, saying something about not gawking at the shop windows even though she might be tempted. Although she knew she should be paying attention, Emilia’s mind began to wander, sneaking sideways peeks at his rugged good looks rather than paying heed. She was particularly fascinated by the fullness of his lips and the glimmers of golden hair in his beard that glinted in the sunlight as he spoke. She wondered if his lips were as smooth as they appeared and what he might taste like if he were to kiss her. His beard wasn’t especially long and thick, rather neatly trimmed. Sure it would be soft, not prickly, as it brushed her skin, she imagined his chin nuzzling her cheek or the bend of her neck.

  She moved down to the long, leather jerkin that lay open at his neck, giving her a glimpse of his chest hair. It was a shade darker, more of a chestnut brown, from what she could see of the small area of his exposed flesh where his shirt collar was spread wide. Images of a lightly furred chest floated through her mind. What would it be like to run her fingers through it, or to press closer to feel the rippling muscles underneath, or for her breasts to be crushed against it in a passionate embrace?