The second week, however, Drake fell into a gloom. He missed Kittellan to the point of misery. There didn’t seem to be anything Diesa could do or say to bring him out of it. He took long walks alone. He read in his room alone. He soaked in the tub alone. It was during one of these soakings that Diesa came up with an idea.
She crept down the hallway and into the bathing room. Drake was half asleep, his head lolled back on the edge of the tub. Grinning to herself, she quickly stripped and before Drake could waken fully, she slid into the tub opposite him.
He woke with a start, sloshing to a sitting position. She smiled at him. "Thought you might be lonely," she purred wickedly.
"Diesa!" His voice rose an octave.
"Yes, my love?" She slid through the water to rest against his chest.
His face flamed. "Diesa, I…I…" he stammered.
She giggled, walking her fingers up his chest to his lips. "You will either escape your gloom or I’ll keep surprising you just like this. And then won’t Kittellan have things to discuss."
Drake relaxed, rolled his eyes and smiled. He caught up her hand and kissed the palm. "Gods, Diesa, you scared the wits out of me. I know I’ve been ignoring you. I just—"
"I know, " she interrupted with a sigh. "You miss Kittellan. So do I."
He looked down at her thoughtfully. "Is he the only one you miss?"
Diesa pulled away from him, feeling a flush rise on her own cheeks. She climbed from the tub and quickly dried and dressed as Drake watched with amusement. "Nature’s attire suits you well, Diesa," he murmured. "It’s a shame to cover it up."
Diesa gave him a sour look and playfully threw the drying cloth at him. "Add some cold water to your bath," she snapped, though it was not said without a grin. "And hurry up. Dinner is almost ready."
"Yes, my love," he replied and ducked under the water to wash his brown curls.
Diesa shook her head and headed toward the kitchen. She was stopped by a knock at the front door and she froze, her heart racing. The property was warded, no one should have been able to get anywhere near the house. Drake joined her, dripping wet, clutching a drying cloth about him. His brown eyes were large with alarm.
They both jumped as the knocking came again, this time more demanding. Drake drew Diesa back to the bathing room where he hurriedly dressed. "Wait here," he whispered as the pounding came again. He left and returned a moment later with his sword. Together they crept down the hallway. They hadn’t gotten far when the front door slammed open. The bolt had not been drawn. Neither Diesa nor Drake had thought about it.
"Hello? Scanlon?" Marsden stepped into the foyer. He caught sight of them and scowled, then startled them both with a hard jolt of magic. "Is it not your job to answer to guests?" he demanded, then glanced at Drake. "Put away that sword!"
Drake hurriedly obeyed, then bowed. He rushed forward to take Marsden’s cloak. "Our apologies, M’lord. Lord Scanlon had wards around the property. We were not expecting any company. Your arrival frightened us."
"Have the wards fallen, M’lord?" Diesa asked hesitantly.
Marsden eyed her with a small smile. "No. The wards are fine. They are not designed to keep out elves. Only to keep the likes of you from running." His gaze swept over her. "So you’re Diesa?" She nodded and he walked a circle around her as if eyeing stock he wished to buy. "I must say Scanlon purchased well."
Diesa went stiff. "Will M’lord be staying for supper?"
"I’m to assume Scanlon is not here?"
"No, M’lord, " Drake answered. "He took Kittellan and went out on business."
"Then I shall stay and await his return."
"M’lord, he will be gone another week," Drake said.
"Oh, I see. Well then, I’ll stay the night at least," Marsden said and brushed past him into the living room. He sprawled in Scanlon’s favorite chair, kicked off his boots and brought the fire to a roaring flame. "Woman-boy! Bring me some wine!"
"My name is Drake, M’lord," Drake said tightly, then gasped with pain.
"Your name is whatever I call you," Marsden told him coldly. "Now get the wine! And then tend to my horse. You, girl, I do hope you have more of those stuffed mushrooms available. They were delicious."
"Aye, M’lord," Diesa replied. "I just made some. I’ll get them." She herded Drake into the kitchen. "Drake, calm yourself. We’ll cater to him tonight and he’ll be gone tomorrow. Please don’t draw punishment for nothing."
Drake trembled with anger, but nodded and snatched up a bottle of wine and a glass. He eyed the dinner Diesa had prepared for the two of them. "Roast duck and mushrooms. My favorites. Going into the sour gut of that elf."
Diesa shot him a small smile and set aside several mushrooms. "For later," she whispered, then prepared a tray for Marsden and followed Drake back into the living room.
Marsden ate greedily and noisily, shoving the food into his mouth with such abandon, Diesa wondered that he tasted it all. He downed almost a full bottle of wine as well, something that put Diesa on the alert. As she watched him devour his meal, she found herself wondering how he could even be of the same race as Scanlon, who took great pride in his manners. At one point Marsden sloshed his wine sending a shower of red to stain Scanlon’s favorite chair. Diesa leapt forward with a cloth to blot it dry, mentally cursing the elfin oaf who sat before her, vastly relieved that he did not seem able to read her thoughts.
At last Marsden rose, stretching lazily. "You, girl, where is the guest room? I shall retire for the night."
"This way, M’lord." Diesa led him down the hall to the bedroom with the jewels.
Marsden glanced around, but did not seem impressed with the wealth scattered about. He eyed Diesa. "Scanlon must have a great trust in his slaves," he murmured. "Either that or he still uses the elfin web for punishment." Diesa drew a quick breath and Marsden’s eyebrows rose in delighted surprise. "So I see you know of it?"
"Aye, M’lord, I do," Diesa admitted uneasily. "Though Lord Scanlon said that it was not something he had control over, that it was his father’s doing."
Marsden laughed. "Did he? And you believed him? How naive." He threw himself onto the bed. "Woman-boy!’ he bellowed. Drake appeared at the door. "Fetch me another bottle of wine. No, make that two. And make them good ones this time."
"Aye, M’lord." Drake bowed and hurried away.
"By your leave, M’lord," Diesa said quietly and started to leave the room.
"Stay!" Marsden’s command was low and hard and Diesa froze, her gut tightening. Drake returned with the wine, his gaze meeting hers briefly. Marsden snatched the wine from him. "Retire to your room, boy," he ordered.
Drake hesitated, his gaze flying to Diesa, then back to Marsden. "M’lord –" He went rigid, his breath hissing from him, his eyes clouding with pain.
"You slaves do talk back!’ Marsden snapped, getting to his feet. "Scan’s never known how to handle slaves properly. He always assumes they have intellect and feelings. And that’s his downfall. Once he starts to look at them as anything more than possessions, he starts to feel sorry for them. And then, just like that," he snapped his fingers, "he frees them! Then he has to start all over again. Is that what you’re hoping, you two? That Scanlon will free you?"
He uncorked the bottle and took a long pull before addressing them again. "That other woman-boy, where is he?"
"He accompanied Lord Scanlon on his business," Diesa replied.
"Accompanied?" Marsden laughed, and took another drink, swaying. "You make it sound like they were partners. I can assure you that is not the case. I believe Scan said something about selling the boy. He should fetch a fair price."
Diesa and Drake exchanged startled glances, but neither of them said a word. Marsden went on, his voice slurred from the drink.
"And what would you do if he did free you? Where will you go? You’ve no money, no property, nothing but the clothes on your back. Scanlon doesn’t realize that. Some humans need to be slaves. You need someone to look after you. To p
rovide you with a shelter, good food, protection. That’s what we’re here for. To take care of you." He had been slowly circling them as he spoke and now stopped beside Diesa. "And we can certainly do that." He looked at Drake. "I told you to go to your room, boy," he snapped. "Now!"
Drake drew himself up tightly. "No, M’lord. Not without Diesa."
Marsden’s face went red and he raised his arm as if to strike Drake.
"No, M’lord!" Diesa screamed and leapt in front of him. She grabbed his arm. "Please spare the boy. He’s my brother, M’lord, and as such is a little overprotective."
"Diesa!" Drake whispered fiercely.
She whirled toward him. "Do as he says, Drake. Go to your room. Please." Her eyes begged him to listen.
Drake stared at her, then shot a glance at Marsden. Finally he gave a stiff, jerky bow and left.
Diesa closed her eyes briefly, gave a gentle sigh and turned to face Marsden. "Would M’lord like me to prepare him a bath?"
"No." He paused, took another drink and said. "My bed."
"Aye, M’lord." Diesa went to the bed and turned down the covers. She fluffed the pillows, then stepped aside. "Will there be anything else, M’lord?"
"Are you offering?" he asked with a smile.
Diesa went red. "No, M’lord, I am not," she said firmly.
He laughed and waved her away. "Go, then. Before I change my mind."
Diesa gave a curt bow and slipped from the room, pulling the door shut behind her. She went straight to Drake’s room and entered without knocking. Drake was slouched on the foot of the bed and rose with an exclamation of relief when he saw her. He gathered her in a trembling embrace.
"Can I sleep in your room tonight?" Diesa asked. "I don’t trust him."
"Nor do I," Drake agreed. "And now, Diesa, do you see the difference between a good master and the rest?"
"Aye." Diesa whispered and crawled into bed fully clothed. She snuggled into the pillow, breathing deep of Kittellan’s scent. Drake pulled off his tunic and Diesa gasped. His back was criss-crossed with scars, long ugly brands of disciplines past. "Oh, Drake," she murmured.
He lay down next to her. "It’s nothing," he said. "A life gone. Thanks to you." He turned his head to look at her. "Kitt told me you offered yourself for me. I’ve never known how to thank you for that. Or how to thank Scanlon for ignoring your offer." He kissed her cheek. "But I do thank you, Diesa, with all my heart." He gathered her close.
* * *
Marsden came for her in the middle of the night. He was dead drunk and fairly broke the door from its hinges as he slammed it open. Drake was on his feet at once even as the elf yanked Diesa from the bed and hauled her toward his room. She fought wildly against his grip, as Drake tried to intercept them. He had his dagger in his hand and a feral look in his eyes.
"Stop!" he ordered, brandishing the weapon.
Marsden turned and made a slight gesture with his free hand. His magic sent Drake hurtling backward to slam against the hallway wall where he collapsed in a heap on the floor, the weapon jarred from his grasp. Diesa screamed and dug her nails into Marsden’s arm drawing blood. He released her with a gasp, then backhanded her across the face, sending her sprawling onto the guest room floor.
"How dare you?" he seethed.
Drake crawled forward, once more gripped the dagger, and came to his knees. Marsden whipped his hand through the air and again Drake flew across the floor. His head slammed against the stone wall with a sickening thud. He shuddered once and went limp, the dagger falling from his fingers.
Pure rage tore through Diesa and she made a desperate dive for the weapon. But Marsden caught her with magic and swept her away, sending her flying sideways. She met the doorjamb with a sickening crunch and pain shot through her arm and shoulder. Gasping, she seized the dagger and struggled to her feet. Marsden struck her yet again, sending her sprawling to the floor, and this time she could not force herself to rise. She lay dazed, pain flooding through her, spots dancing before her eyes. Marsden kicked her hand, and Diesa released the dagger with a shriek of agony. Then the elf scooped her up and flung her onto the bed. She rolled, trying to elude his strong hands, but he grabbed her and hauled her back toward him.
"No, M’lord!" she cried. "I belong to Scanlon. Please!"
"Slaves are meant to be shared," Marsden snarled, then smiled coldly as he straddled her. "It looks as if our dear Scanlon has finally gotten over Amarra. I’m amazed. What’s even more amazing is that you are the one who did it. Amarra was beautiful, talented, intelligent and charming. All of the things you are not. You’re a woman in a child’s body. You have no grace, no charm, certainly no beauty."
"And yet you desire me," Diesa snapped. "Why?"
Marsden grabbed her arms, and pinned them over her head. "Because," he murmured, "you’re the forbidden fruit, Diesa. Scanlon took Amarra from my grasp. I will take you from his." He brought his lips against hers in a bruising kiss.
Diesa retaliated with a hard bite to his lips. Marsden jerked away with a roar of pain, then brought his hand hard across her face. She went limp, tasting her own blood. He came atop her, ripping her clothes away with impatient hands, entering her with hard thrusts of lust and rage. Memories of her other rape flooded over Diesa and she burst into tears of desperation and shame, but had not strength left to fight him off. She closed her eyes and tried to block out the humiliation and pain.
After Marsden had rolled aside to sleep, Diesa lay still for a long moment, rage boiling inside her. Finally she rose and staggered to the doorway. Drake had only just regained consciousness and looked up at her through eyes fuzzy with pain. Diesa reached down, picked up the dagger and stoically returned to the bedroom. She stood over Marsden, the dagger gripped tightly in her hand as blood ran free and warm down her legs to stain the carpet.
"I am Diesa de Tyronmen," she whispered, "Princess of Omerron. Now you pay." She raised the dagger and sent it plunging toward Marsden’s chest.
Chapter 11
* * *
A strong hand wrapped about hers stopping the dagger before it met its mark. Drake jerked her aside and snatched the weapon from her.
"No!" Diesa shrieked. "Let me, Drake! Let me kill him!"
"No!" His retort was sharp and he shook her. "I’ll not! You’ll not lower yourself to that."
Marsden groaned and shifted into a more comfortable position. Drake spun and brought his fist down on the elf’s temple with a loud smack. Marsden went limp.
Drake turned to Diesa. "Get dressed in something warm. Bring your dagger. Meet me in the kitchen."
"But Drake—"
"Go!" he snapped.
Diesa whirled and dashed into her room, trying to ignore the pain, the lip that had already swollen to the point that made talking difficult, the trickle of blood that still ran down her leg. She padded herself, tried to pull on a pair of hose, then gave up, unable to use her arm effectively. Instead she slipped into a heavy tunic, and cloak and slid her bare feet into her boots, then stumbled to the kitchen, clutching her aching arm to her chest.
Drake had a pack and was shoving food from the pantry into it. He shouldered the pack , and led the way outside to the stables.
"Where will we go?" Diesa asked. "We can’t get past the wards."
"We won’t have to. Kitt and I found some caves back up in the hills. We’ll go there and we’ll stay there until Scanlon returns." He led Pearl from her stall and quickly bridled her. "She knows her way back," he explained, then motioned Diesa toward the horse. But when he attempted to lift her onto the animal’s back, she let out a scream of pain. Drake drew back with a gasp. "What is it? What’s wrong?"
"My arm," she managed. "I think it’s broken."
Drake’s jaw tightened in anger, and he carefully, gently helped her astride Pearl, then swung up behind her.
They rode at a quick pace away from the cottage and into the dark hills. Drake guided Pearl with a sure hand along narrow overgrown trails for the better part of an hour. Each
jarring step sent shockwaves of pain through Diesa, and she fought back faintness. Finally Drake stopped, dismounted and helped Diesa down. She cried out again and his frown deepened.
"Come on, it’s right over here." He gave Pearl a gentle slap on the rump that sent her trotting for home, then helped Diesa into the entrance of a good-sized cave. It was pitch black inside but only for a moment. Light flared from a torch and Drake gave a wan smile. "We come up here a lot. We haven’t got the entire system mapped out yet, but what we’ve found is really amazing. I’ll show you." He took her hand and led her into the gloom. They made so many turns into so many different sized caves that Diesa was thoroughly confused and lost by the time Drake stopped.
He put light to another torch and Diesa’s eyes went wide. The cave had all of the comforts of home. There were two low-slung chairs, a wide cushioned bed that could also serve as a seat, a table low enough to sit at on the floor, and a small pit for a fire. She turned to Drake in question. He shrugged his shoulders and smiled.
"Kitt’s idea. A place to call our own. A place to act as freemen. Here." He drew her toward another opening and gestured. Another of the low beds was in the process of being built. The pieces were bits of scavenged wood she recognized from Kittellan’s various repair projects about Scanlon’s cottage.
"It’s your room, Diesa," Drake said. "Kitt didn’t want to show you until it was done. He has grand plans to make this a place of beauty."
Tears came into Diesa’s eyes, but they were not entirely tears of gratitude. "Drake, I need to lie down," she whispered. He picked her up and deposited her gently on his bed and pulled the blankets close.
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