by Terri Pray
Celeste brushed a strand of hair from across her eyes.
She hadn't slept in Tearlach's bedroom either, but rather in a small guest room, that looked more like a box room that had been quickly set up as a bedroom. It had only a dresser, a bed and a chamber pot, but it had been enough for her and she'd been able to sleep well in the past two days. Well, she was just as long as she didn't move about too much in her sleep and jerk herself awake again. Now, as she woke and slowly looked around the room, the soft blanket pulled up about her breasts, she knew that she wouldn't have much longer before he returned to the house. If he wasn't home later today it would be tomorrow at the latest. At least that was the impression she'd been given in her interactions with Jason.
She rolled, carefully, out of the bed, her bare feet touching the floor as she reached for the clean chemise. Like the one that had been stripped from her body by Tearlach, this one covered her to above her thighs, the clothing thin, but it offered her some coverage from the gazes of others. She picked up the brush, sat down on the small stool, and worked it through her long hair, her mind racing.
Davien.
Where was he?
By now she'd half expected to hear that he was knocking on the door, demanding the return of his property. But so far there had been nothing of that nature. Perhaps— perhaps Tearlach had left to leave Davien on a wild goose chase?
Her heart threatened to sink deep into the pit of her stomach at the thought of that. What if that's exactly what he'd done? Davien might fall for it, and then he could be led away from where she was, where she was being kept. That didn't sit well with her at all. If her Master fell for that, then it could be a real problem. Unless he realized he was being tricked.
Her head spun.
It was all almost too much to think about.
Her stomach twisted into knots as she pulled the brush carefully through her semi-tangled mane. The brush caught on a fresh wave of knots and she hissed, trying not to cry out with the sudden jolt of pain. Foolish. She wasn't normally this emotional. But since she'd been taken by Tearlach she'd been left unsettled.
Celeste set the brush down and looked into the mirror. The woman that stared back from the polished surface looked paler than she remembered she had been. There were shadows around her eyes, though they were fading, her hair fell in soft, silver blonde waves about her shoulders. Her full breasts pushed out against the chemise, nipples dark just beneath the surface of the material, her skin soft and alabaster. She saw a beautiful woman, but one who lived in fear.
A fear she couldn't risk gaining ground and taking control of her life. And now she knew what she needed to do.
Ice. She had to become a block of ice. Hide how she truly felt deep within so she could serve Tearlach in anyway he wished until the time that Davien found her.
She could almost picture it. The ice she needed. Celeste closed her eyes and reached for that feeling. She let it build up one small section at a time around her heart. Her hands clenched for a moment, then smoothed out on her thighs. Her breathing settled into a soft, steady rate as she felt the ice wrap around her heart and soul, protecting her emotions, burying them under a shield of her own making.
When she opened her eyes the woman she saw in the mirror smiled, coolly, back at her. The gaze she saw in the mirror had eyes of cold, pale blue and with the soft waves of platinum blonde hair that settled around her shoulders, made her look as though she wore a crown of spun silver— or ice.
Would Tearlach even notice?
Somehow she doubted it. Just as long as she served him perfectly he would be content with what she did, and how she looked.
A soft knock drew her attention to the door as it was pushed open and Susan slipped inside.
“Celeste, you're to come down to the parlor at once. He's on his way back and Jason has some instructions to follow through with you. There's some clothing you're to wear when you get there.” Her voice was soft, trembling slightly. “And they say he's in a bad mood, Master Tearlach I mean. Please be careful.”
“He strikes me as the sort of man who is often bad mood.” She murmured, but nodded her thanks to Susan even as she pushed to her feet and walked to the door. “I'll be careful. I know what I am supposed to do and I don't plan on making his mood worse.”
Susan breathed a sigh of relief as she followed Celeste out of the room and down the corridor. Her bare feet made little sound on the floor, and she kept her head up, hands loose at her sides. No, she wasn't about to act in a way that might anger the man who, for now at least, owned her.
A slight smile touched her lips as she walked down the stairs, toward the parlor. He'd be here soon, fine, she could cope with that. Her back had almost healed, the only two welts she had been left with where the two from the cane across her buttocks, but even that wasn't as bad as it had been.
The chemise whispered about her thighs as she stepped into the main hall and knocked on the door to the parlor.
“Enter.” Jason called out.
She pushed the door open and walked into the well-lit room. A fire crackled in the hearth, chasing away the chill of the hallway. With her head held high, Celeste walked into the center of the room, standing in front of Jason. “You called for me, Sir?”
“Yes. Susan no doubt told you. Tearlach is on his way home. He sent word that I was to prepare you. It would appear that he's taking you out to an event and there are certain things he wishes you to wear.”
Out of the house?
Interesting. Which meant he felt safe enough to venture back into society, in whatever limited way he was able to take part in the first place. He wasn't exactly in a position where he'd be welcomed into polite society. So that restricted him to lesser known events.
Or places that she feared to enter.
“You'll have to be on your— well— best behavior. He's in a foul mood.”
Which only added to her growing concerns, but she kept them well hidden as she stood there. “I understand, Sir. I will do my best not to do anything to anger him further.”
“Best you do.” He turned and lifted up a corset, pale blue with silver trimming. “I'll help you get into this. You'll need to remove the chemise. Yes— I know it's normally worn over one, but he wishes you wearing this without the protection of the chemise.”
Celeste nodded and quickly stripped out of the thin covering. Then stepped into the corset and turned, wriggling it upward until she felt Jason take over. She gasped as it was slowly tightened into place on her body, forcing her breasts upward. The corset constricted her breathing, but not enough that she feared she might faint. Not yet at least.
Just as long as she wasn't trying to run away, and needed to breath deeply, she would be fine. Or so she hoped.
Celeste turned back to face Jason, the corset covered her waist and lifted up her breasts, leaving her mound bare except for the soft down of hair that covered it.
“I am to shave you, here.” He gestured to her mound. “Sit on the stool. Susan is bringing in a shaving kit. We need to make sure you're smooth there before he arrives.”
Celeste felt the muscles in her arms tighten, but somehow she managed to prevent her hands from clenching. Then she slowly turned and settled on the stool, parting her thighs as Jason instructed her to, and gripped the edge of the stool. She tensed slightly as she heard the door open then tried to relax when she realized it was Susan.
The young woman colored deeply as she saw Celeste, sitting, exposed on the stool. The maid set down the shaving kit and hurried out, leaving them alone.
“I'm not sure why this is being done here, instead of the bathing chamber, Sir. Wouldn't that have been easier?”
“It would, but Tearlach's instructions were precise when it came to this.” Jason grunted and picked up a cloth, dipping it into the bowl of warm water before he smoothed that over her mound, wetting the hairs. Celeste shivered at the feel of the water on her skin, then her gaze moved to the shaving straight blade he held. How was he going to manage
all of this when she was sat on a stool? She knew that blade had to be sharp and she had a good idea that it could easily cut her if she moved, or he made a mistake.
No, she wasn't about to risk that.
“Stay perfectly still unless I tell you to move, understood girl?” His voice was soft as he dabbed the thick soap over her mound with a short, stubbly brush. “I don't want to cut you, and have you bleeding everywhere, or himself angry at me for damaging what belongs to him.”
“Yes, Sir. I understand.” She spoke quietly, her fingers clenching at the edge of the stool, knuckles white long before he set the soap brush down and picked up the razor.
The cold steel smoothed over her flesh, tearing a low whimper from her being. She hadn't thought this would affect her like this, and now she knew that her body reacted to the touch of a sharp blade. She tried to shut it out and reached for that protective shield of ice she'd so carefully wrapped in place earlier in the day. But it didn't stop her body from reacting to what it read as sensual touches.
She couldn't believe she was struggling against the instinct to arch into his touch. A touch that held a deadly sharp blade in his hand. Was she sick? Warped beyond all reasoning? Whatever was going on she didn't like it, though her body did. Her inner walls clenched, heat seeping across them as she felt her heart skip a beat. Her nipples crinkled into coral points, her breasts lifted up by the corset. Each caress of the blade as it skimmed the hairs from her mound, brought another shudder into being that she struggled to keep from running rampant across her body.
Her eyes closed as she focused on breathing, the sound of the fire in the hearth, the way she could hear soft creaks, footsteps, even conversations if she concentrated hard enough. Anything that would take her away from the sensation of the blade across her flesh.
Jason tapped her lightly on the leg and had her move so she was no longer sitting over the stool, but leaning over it, her feet pressed to the floor, legs apart, her bottom thrust up in the air. With small, careful strokes, he removed the last of her body hair from that, most delicate, of areas.
“Not my taste but it should suit himself.” Jason muttered and set the razor aside before he picked up a cloth and carefully wiped her clean. Then he smoothed over a gentle smelling ointment that reminded Celeste of summer fields. She hissed a little, never expecting the stinging sensation she now dealt with. But once that had died down it was easier for her to return to keeping her features composed.
“Thank you for taking such care.”
“Done both for your benefit and mine, girl.” He patted her bottom gently. “Time to get you dressed in the rest of his chosen clothes.”
Celeste took a deep breath, bringing her emotions, and body, back under control as she stood up and faced him. Jason wasn't bad looking. He certainly wouldn't have been the type that the Ton would have raved about, but that would have been more about his lack of money than anything else. However he was an attractive man, with deep hazel eyes and a set of full lips that begged to be kissed.
Her inner walls spasmed, leaving her wanting to feel him buried deep within her being. Yet she didn't even dare suggest such a thing. Tearlach would only punish them both and that wasn't something she was willing to go through.
“Put this on.” Jason handed her a simple blue dress and a pair of matching shoes, along with white stockings, a bonnet with a wide blue ribbon, and a pair of lace gloves. Celeste frowned slightly, but pulled them on carefully, taking her time with the stockings and garters, making sure they would not easily slip down around her ankles.
She'd barely finished dressing, the bonnet tied into place, when she heard the parlor door open. Celeste turned, catching a glimpse of Tearlach's greatcoat out of the corner of her eye and slipped to her knees quickly, placing her hands in her lap after she smoothed the dress into place.
“How has she behaved?” His voice sent a shiver down her spine.
“Well indeed, Sir. She hasn't caused any problems and has obeyed the instructions left for her.” Jason stepped forward, his voice calm and collected. “She's made no attempt or indication that she would try and leave you.”
“Good, and she's shaved?” There was a growl in his voice, the sound dark, angry as he walked further into the room.
Jason nodded toward the bowl and straight razor. “As instructed, Sir.”
“Good.” Tearlach turned his attention to Celeste, his hands on his hips, the tri-corn hat tipped half over his eyes. “Up, wench. We have business to attend to. And I'm not in the mood to be kept waiting.”
Celeste tucked her toes under and rocked back up to her feet, keeping her gaze lowered. Despite her fears, and her curiosity as to just where they were going, she didn't dare ask him. Not after the way she had been introduced to his cane. Instead she silently followed him out of the room, her inner walls slick with heat from her introduction to being shaved.
Wherever he was taking her, she would find out when the time was right by his reckoning, and not one minute before.
CHAPTER SIX
Celeste followed him out of the house to the waiting carriage and climbed up into it without his aid. Her gaze narrowed on him, he limped, the hitch a slight one and fresh, but it was there. Had that been the source of his anger? Not that it mattered right now. Damn the man, he hadn't offered even so much as a supportive hand to her as she'd climbed inside and that had brought more than a few disapproving looks from those who had walked past them. Including one snort of Ignorant Brute from a well-dressed man.
Tearlach growled as the carriage door was closed behind them. “Fools. If they knew what you were then they wouldn't have a problem.”
That was what he appeared to miss. They didn't know. They couldn't know. Slavery was illegal in England and if he was caught owning a woman like this he'd face legal problems. Then again perhaps he didn't care. He was already a wanted man.
Not that anyone would believe her. She had no proof that this man was The Raven. Even if she did, he was wanted in Ireland, not in London, or would they hang him here for crimes in Ireland? She had no idea how that worked.
She leaned back against the seat, her gaze drawn to the window. It was safer than looking at him. Just where was she being taken?
She almost gave into the urge to ask him direct, then wriggled slightly, feeling the two healing welts across her ass. No, she didn't want to add to them, and kept silent as the carriage jolted along the road. They were moving through London at a steady pace, well what could be classed as such with the amount of carriages on the road right now. It had to be late afternoon. Her sleeping hours had been odd from the start with him, partially with the pain she'd been recovering from and the welts that had made it almost impossible to rest for more than an hour at a time.
“You've surprised me, woman.” The growl had eased from his voice.
She blinked, caught off guard by his words. She turned, looking at him, keeping her voice soft. “Might I ask how so, Master?”
“I expected you to cause some problems, or try to escape.”
“You own me, Master. Why would I try to escape? Where would I go?” She looked up at him for a moment, his eyes shadowed by the tri-corn. “I have learned, all too well, the penalty for attempting to escape. And for questioning you as well, I try not to make the same mistake twice.”
A predatorily smirk flashed across his face. “Aye, you have. And learned well enough that I trust it will not be a lesson I have to repeat with you.”
“No, Master. It won't need to be.” She had her hands folded, softly, in her lap. Her gaze lowered once more. She knew this man needed to have his ego stoked. Insecure. That was the only true way of describing him. How could a man like this feel so insecure? Didn't he understand that he could find other ways to express himself?
Or was he truly incapable of controlling himself?
She wasn't sure. Everything she'd seen of him so far made it clear that he was a rash human being who rushed into decisions and didn't think things through. Maybe if he had
he wouldn't be taking her out this quickly after snatching her from the street.
A slight frown touched her brow, confusion bubbling into life behind her eyes. Just what was he playing at?
“You think he will find you?”
“Who, Master?” She smiled softly, biting back her initial reaction to his words. No, she would play this game with him.
“You know who I mean, girl. Davien Blood.”
“Ah, I wasn't certain that is who you meant, Master. And I'm not sure if he would try and find me or not, Master.” She kept her voice soft as she spoke, making certain she didn't look into his eyes. He struck her as the sort of man who needed to feel better than everyone else around him.
“I see. Well he tried to find you, but I led him on a merry old dance across London. He's, no doubt, on the other side of the city by now.” He laughed, but the merriment never reached his eyes. “He had people out looking for you, as well as searching himself. But rumors are easily planted and your lord is a fool when t comes to dealing with the common people.”
Common people like her?
She took a deep breath, letting it out carefully. “I have seen him work around problems before, Master.”
“Well, he won't be able to with this one.” Tearlach's gaze hardened. “And you belong to me, don't you?”
“Yes, Master. I belong to you.” She nodded softly, keeping her voice calm. “I don't expect him to come for me, not with how you have set him astray. I have no doubt he will fall for your plan and deceptions, Master.” Her stomach knotted at the words she'd forced into existence. Would Davien really fall for this? She had to believe he wouldn't.
“And now you're wondering where I am taking you?”
She hesitated before answering. “Yes, I am only human, Master. So I am curious about where we are going.” She looked down at the dress she wore. It wasn't a cheap dress, but it also wasn't the most expensive dress she'd ever seen.
“The Docks.”
“Master?” Why would they be going to the docks? She wracked her memory, trying to recall if she'd seen anything in the carriage that would hint at leaving London, but there'd been nothing that she'd seen. Not that she'd had anything to...
