Innocence Enslaved

by Maddie Taylor

  “We leave in three days. See that everything is prepared.”

  “Your trip isn’t planned for weeks.”

  “Plans change, Charles. Ready it all, but keep it under your cap. When we leave this time, we won’t return. I can stomach Lancore no longer.”

  He spun on his heel and strode out the door; his next task was to inform Alice to pack up the household. He hadn’t gotten two steps over the threshold when he heard Charles’ response. “Saints be praised, I thought this day would never come.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Emilia entered the kitchen the next morning and stared in wonder at the chaos. Muriel was wrapping dishes in cloth and bending head first to settle them in a deep barrel. Alice was directing two of the stable boys as they carried out crates filled to the brim with pots and pans. Two other women, who she’d never seen before, were wrapping loaves of bread and dried meat in cheesecloth.

  “What’s going on?” she asked Muriel as she came out of the barrel, her hair wild around her shoulders from where she’d been topsy-turvy.

  “The master has moved up his departure. He wants to leave Friday at dawn,” she answered as she twisted to grab another stack of wrapped plates.

  “Does he always take his entire kitchen when he travels?”

  Muriel glanced over her shoulder at her mother, who stood with her back to them, busily fussing over one of the boys as he cleaned up broken glass, a mess he’d apparently made. “I’m not supposed to know,” she whispered conspiratorially, eyes darting back and forth between her mother and Emilia, “but he plans an extensive trip and is closing up the house. Mother, Charles, and I are traveling with him, as well as two of his senior apprentices. The others are being sent home for the summer.”

  “What about me?”

  She glanced up, darks brows slanting in as if all of a sudden realizing something was wrong. “Uh, well. I’m sorry, what he planned to do with you wasn’t mentioned. I’m sure he means to bring you along.”

  Her heart lurched as dread flowed through her. “Did he mention where he was traveling too?”

  “Several places were mentioned.” Her eyes tilted up as she tried to recall. “Connard, Litchboro, and Melbourne were a few of the towns he planned to visit, though not in that order. I believe he said Melbourne would come first.”

  Wounded at that bit of news, she turned and hurried back down the hall to the stairs.

  “Em, what’s wrong?” Muriel called after her, but she didn’t stop, rushing headlong up the steps to her room. Once there, she went to the window and watched the bustle in the yard with her hand over her mouth to quiet her sobs. He’d told her his journey to Melbourne was months from now, in the fall. After last night, he’d moved up it up, anxious to get her gone. Heartbroken, she searched for him in the yard, locating him easily standing taller than anyone else, the golden strands in his brown hair glistening in the sunshine. She’d been too forward, lustfully throwing herself at him. Like a true pleasure slave, she’d played the whore; not only had she begged for a kiss, she’d wantonly asked him to take her, parting her thighs and displaying herself lewdly.

  He’d called her a temptress. Of course he wouldn’t want such a slattern for a wife. She watched as he led his horse from the stable, mounted, and then rode off without so much as a glance in her direction.

  Emilia sank onto the window bench, torn between joy over seeing her family again, and sorrow that Corbet, who she’d come to love with all her heart, would not be a part of her life. She sat staring out the window, seeing nothing, unaware of time passing, until her name was called from downstairs.

  Slowly, she got up and made her way back to the kitchen.

  “Eat, girl,” Alice admonished as she scuffled in on heavy feet. “You missed breakfast and it’s well past lunch. The master will not be pleased if you get sick or weak from lack of nourishment.”

  “Why would he care?” she pouted as she flopped into a chair. “If I died of starvation he’d be well rid of me.”

  “Emilia! What nonsense is this?” demanded a scandalized voice from behind her.

  She twisted and saw Corbet standing at the sink, which was set in a recessed part of the kitchen off to the left and not easily visible from the door she’d entered through. She frowned in concentration, trying to come up with a quick and believable answer.

  “Well?” he demanded, striding toward her. “What’s this talk about death and wanting rid of you. Who has put such thoughts in your head?”

  He had, by rejecting her and now, in her mind, he was tossing her out like the rubbish, though she was smart enough not to utter her thoughts aloud. Instead, she remained silent, her gaze fixed on his booted feet.

  “I have matters to attend to in my study. After you eat, and clean your plate of every bite, come to me. Maybe a full stomach will lighten your mood and you’ll be able to tell me what these morbid thoughts are about. Alice.”

  “I’ll see that she finishes every bite, sir.”

  She took a deep breath after he’d left, trying to compose herself as best she could before facing him across the desk where he’d strapped her. Had it been a few nights past? It seemed like forever.

  “Foolish girl,” the older woman muttered as she set a bowl of steaming stew in front of her. “Have you no idea what he has done for you? The silver aside, he has risked Lord Ervin’s notice, something all of us wish to avoid. While he has the right, with the law on his side, he leaves you to your safe, warm bed every night. Do you think another having bought you would have been so kind? And now, he plans to see you home, yet you pout, cry, and are wholly unappreciative.”

  “Mother, she doesn’t know our ways.”

  “And she doesn’t bother to listen and learn from them either. Ungrateful, is what she is.”

  Emilia felt even worse after Alice’s condemnation. She didn’t think she could manage a bit of the savory stew, but picked up her spoon rather than disobey Corbet further. A hand on her shoulder caused her to look up, meeting the sympathy in Muriel’s hazel eyes.

  Comforted by her friendship, which was something she hadn’t expected to find, Emilia began to eat as she’d been ordered.

  * * *

  Knocking lightly on the door, she had an eerie sense that she’d done this before when he called, “Come,” and she entered. He was bent over his desk writing furiously.

  “You asked to see me, sir?”

  “Yes. First, how are you faring?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “You know what I’m referring to. Any bruises or lingering pain?”

  She flushed hotly, looking away.

  “Would you rather I tossed up your skirts and got my answer directly?”

  “No, sir,” she quickly replied. “I’m sitting without any difficulty today.”

  “And this idea that I’d be well rid of you if you were dead?”

  “It was nothing, sir. Just me feeling homesick and sorry for myself.”

  “Come here, then.” He pushed back in his chair.

  Her eyes fell to his lap and she gasped, hands flying protectively to her bottom. “You’d spank me for missing my family?”

  “No, little one. I have news that should please you, but I won’t tell you while you’re across the room.” He crooked his finger, motioning her near. When she came alongside his desk, he leaned forward, grasping her hands in his and pulled her close. As he did so, he grinned up at her, so handsome that her heart turned over. “We leave Lancore at the end of the week.”

  She lowered her head, staring at their joined hands as the pain came surging back. “Muriel told me, though she didn’t know what you planned for me.”

  “I’m taking you home, of course.”

  Her chin quivered, unable to hide the agony.

  “I thought you’d be pleased not to have to wait for months.”

  “I am, sir. I shall be happy to see my family.”

  “Then why the long face?”

  “I’m simply relieved that this ordeal wil
l be over, I suppose.”

  Both of them sat silently for a moment, before Corbet nodded. “Help ready the household, then. I will be tying up loose ends and be gone today.”

  She gazed at him, trying to burn his image into her memory knowing it would have to last a lifetime.

  He rose, but she hadn’t stepped back, so he stood incredibly close, his body brushing up against hers. Her head fell back, no longer masking her desire, letting him see both the sadness in her face and the yearning in her eyes. Boldly, her hand rose to his cheek. “Why couldn’t it have been different? If we met in a different time and place, do you think it could have been possible then?”

  “Emilia.” His hand came up to cradle hers as he turned his head and placed a kiss in her palm. “I like to think it would have been.”

  “Then make it so.” She leaned into him until the tips of her breasts brushed his chest. Coming up on her toes, she boldly lifted her face to his.

  The next moment, she found herself in his arms, one large hand curved around the back of her neck. “You’re a siren,” he murmured as his head bent toward hers, “although I’ve tried, I’m unable to resist you.”

  His lips descended and at last covered her own. They were as warm as she imagined they would be. Soft, yet firm, they moved over hers, and when his tongue slipped out and traced the fullness of her lower lip, shivers of desire raced through her. She opened to him instinctively, seeking more as her fingers curled into his shirtfront. Needing no more encouragement, his mouth hungrily took what she freely offered.

  His arms tightened, crushing her into his chest as his tongue delved between her lips, exploring, searching, claiming. A delicious shudder of wanting pulsed through her body when he groaned her name into her mouth. He moved unexpectedly, bowing her back over his arm and deepening the kiss. The world faded away as she drowned in the sensations of Corbet’s embrace.

  Long moments later, he pulled away, burying his face in her neck as he inhaled deeply. She lay unmoving, clinging to his broad shoulders, savoring each touch, taste, and quiver he’d created.

  “I don’t understand,” she whispered, when she regained use of both her brain and her tongue. “You want me, we’re leaving Lancore, what other barrier remains?”

  His head came up and he gazed down at her, deep-seated pain visible on his face. He didn’t answer, standing and bringing her up with him when he did. She swayed slightly from the sudden change of position. His hands supported her, warm and wonderful on her waist until she was steady on her feet. She whimpered when he released her and walked to the door. The thought of never feeling those strong hands on her ever again made her swallow her pride and plead to his back, “Corbet, please.”

  With his hand on the latch, he glanced back to where she stood, her fingers pressed to her kiss-swollen lips. “I’m sorry, Emilia. That shouldn’t have happened.”

  His steady calm as he expressed his regret didn’t fool her; his eyes spoke truer than his words and gave away his distress. Why was he so being so stubborn?

  “I’m taking you home as I promised. Be ready to leave in three days.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  The rest of the day and into the night was an exercise in frustration for Emilia. She waited on tenterhooks for Corbet to return, wanting to talk to him. Watching the windows all day and walking out to the stable yard on several occasions didn’t produce him. He never came home. The next morning when she awoke, she rushed to the window, but didn’t see him in the busy yard then, either.

  So it was an exhausted Emilia who sat at the table, idly stirring her tea. She looked up expectantly when a man walked in, but it was only Charles.

  He greeted her with a warm smile and a tilt of his wide-brimmed straw hat. “Morning, lass.”

  “Morning, sir,” she replied, taking in the tall, lanky man with the leather patches on the knees of his cotton pants. This was the first time she’d seen Charles up close. The grayish hair under his hat suggested he had some age on him, but he still seemed fit and strong, the deep tan on his face and hands suggesting he spent most of his time outside. She watched lines form on his face as he smiled, poking his head closer to Alice’s bowl.

  “Making hotcakes, Alice?”

  “Get your head out of my bowl,” she grumbled, as she swatted at him with her spoon. “I’ll have a warm stack for you shortly with some of those fresh blackberries you brought in. Get on out of here now, and bring me the milk can from the stream.”

  “Hotcakes and cold milk sure will hit the spot.” He gave her a goofy grin, patting his stomach as he left.

  “I swear that man lives for food,” she muttered, as she ladled more batter onto the steaming hot griddle. To Emilia, she didn’t seem at all put out; in truth, she saw a hint of a tender smile on the usually dour woman’s face. “After breakfast you and Muriel take the wash to the stream. Everything needs to be dried and stored properly by tomorrow night.”

  She nodded as she watched the woman’s hands maneuver across the top of the stove like magic, flipping one thing while stirring another. Bit by bit, breakfast came together as the plates next to the stove were piled high with hotcakes and the syrup made from a mix of fresh berries warmed in a heavy pan.

  She was carrying the plates to the table when Muriel came in.

  “Wash is outside the door, mother,” she announced while walking in. “Mm, we haven’t had hotcakes in a while.” She paused next to the stove, inhaling with eager delight. “Is it Christmas?”

  “Don’t be silly. I merely thought to give us a treat before we have to eat by a campfire for who knows how long.”

  Charles came back with the milk can, pouring some into a pitcher for Alice. She poured him a glass of milk and handed him a plate piled high with fluffy syrup soaked hotcakes. He thanked her with a huge grin and left the kitchen.

  “Where’s he going?” Emilia asked Muriel.

  “He never eats with us.”

  “Why ever not? You’d think a husband and wife would enjoy starting the day with a meal together.”

  Muriel burst into laughter as her mother sent a glowering frown her way.

  “What?” Emilia demanded, surprised by their strange reaction.

  “Mother and Charles aren’t married.”

  “But I thought… Are they sweethearts then?”

  Alice snorted. “That man doesn’t have a sweet bone in his body.”

  “He does, as do you, especially when you make his favorite breakfast.”

  “Muriel!”

  “Mama, you know Charles loves you, you’re simply too stubborn to admit it.”

  “Mind how you speak to your mother, young lady.” She then stripped off her apron and stalked away, though not before Emilia caught sight of her tears. She was going to ask if she was all right, but the woman had sailed out the back door as if her skirts were on fire.

  Emilia stared after her, noting that stubbornness seemed to be a common trait in the household. She said to Muriel, who was also gazing after her mother, wearing an unusually sad expression, “I’m sorry if my comments upset her.”

  “Not any more so than mine,” she replied. Usually quite talkative, Muriel lapsed into silence.

  Knowing there was a story there, she thought it best not to pry and tucked into her breakfast. The pancakes were light and fluffy, practically melting in her mouth, and after barely eating anything the day before, she wolfed down the stack on her plate, no matter how insensitive it made her feel as Muriel merely picked at her own breakfast.

  She didn’t speak again until after Emilia had devoured every bite of the best hotcakes she’d ever tasted and sat back with a groan, holding her full stomach.

  “We best get to the wash before mother gets back.”

  The walk to the stream was uncomfortably quiet, as was the half hour of tedious scrubbing that followed. Curiosity eventually got the best of her and she blurted out, “Why was your mother so upset about Charles?”

  “I can’t tell you that.”

 
They both scrubbed sheets against the washboards for several moments more before Emilia piped up, “Why?”

  “Because I’m never to speak of the manor.”

  Her brows drew together as she tried to puzzle that out. She couldn’t. “What does your mother and Charles falling in love have to do with the manor?”

  “It is best you don’t know,” Muriel responded stiffly, sounding like her mother, but it was obvious she was dying to share. She sat back on her heels, biting her lip, then shook her head. “I can’t. I’ll get the thrashing of my life if I tell you what our lives were like inside those walls.”

  “I already know you lived there.”

  “You have no idea how awful it was, not so much for me, but for mother.” She bowed her head and began rubbing one of Corbet’s shirts with all of her might. It was a fine fabric and Emilia worried she would put a hole in it and get in trouble, not from him, but instead from the stringent housekeeper. She put out her hand to stop her.

  “I won’t tell, ever, by my word,” Emilia vowed, as she pulled the shirt from her reddened hands. “You can trust me.”

  Muriel looked away.

  “I can see how this troubles you. I trusted you with my secrets that first night and felt much better after unloading my burden. It could work for you as well.”

  “I’d rather hear about how you got back the other night. I came upon mother talking to Corbet about it, but she sent me to bed before I learned all of it. He was very upset and was ready to go searching for you. Is it true you ran from him?”

  “If I tell you, will you tell me?”

  “Fine,” she reluctantly agreed, “you first.” Picking up another shirt from the pile, she went back to scrubbing, though with considerably less energy.

  “I didn’t run on purpose. It was the cart. Did you hear about that?”