A Rebel Captive (2 page)

He spun her around, forcing her to face him. 

“Do you understand?” he demanded.  

She quaked in his grasp.  Her eyes were glassy with unshed tears; her long brown hair fell in her face. 
God, she’s beautiful,
he thought, taking a moment to appreciate the sight of her.

“How can you people do this,” she whispered. 

Cole narrowed his eyes.  “Just as easily as your people can cause civil unrest and the deaths of innocent soldiers all in the name of some unrealizable plight.” She had a far off look on her face and he shook her just slightly, snapping her attention back to him. “Now, you will obey me and pay the penance for your people’s naiveté or you can join your friend down there.”

“But it’s not my war,” she mumbled, but he was already pulling her away and didn’t hear her. 

She risked a glance back out the window, a new man was having his way with Trebble, but she had passed out. 
Thank god for small miracles
, she thought.  She didn’t dare ask any questions on their way back to his room, but she did move closer to him again as they entered the great hall.  It felt like every eye was on her, whether it was true or not.  Humiliated and scared out of her mind, she wanted to break down and cry, but just made herself keep moving instead.  Finally, they reached his room.  She didn’t realize before that it was at the end of a long hallway.  He hustled her into his room and she felt like she could breathe a little easier. 

Cole unbound her wrists and pushed her away from him.  She took an extra step back and whipped her head around not sure what she was frantically looking for, but looking none the less.  She was standing in the middle of a living room, lined with bookcases and comfy leather furniture.  A large, sturdy, desk sat in the back of the room in front of French doors that led to a bedroom and bathroom.  There was no escape, nowhere to hide.  She turned back to Cole, he was smiling at her.

“Strip,” he said. 

Her eyes grew wide, he could see her fingers start to shake, and she slowly shook her head. 

“No,” he chuckled, “I suppose I didn’t expect it to be that easy.”

He took her by the upper arm and pulled her into the bedroom.  A pair of silk pajamas were on the bed.  She suddenly realized she was still in her running clothes, they were dirty and torn.  She itched to change out of her clothes, but she’d be damned if she’d get naked in front of him. 

He just smiled. “Get changed, I’ll be right back.”

He walked into the bathroom and closed the door.  Olivia stood there a second, staring at the pajamas then the door.  On instinct, she ran to the main door, but it was locked. 

“I said get changed, I won’t tell you again,” he hollered from the bathroom. 

Defeated, Olivia walked back to the bedroom and changed into the pajamas, thankful for the privacy he gave her.  Cole opened the door to the bathroom and stood there, marveling at how adorable she looked in the simple silk pants and camisole. 

“You should rest, get in the bed.”

She froze, the king sized bed was so inviting and she was exhausted both emotionally and physically, but the idea of getting into his bed made her dizzy with fear. 

“I’m not going to touch you. 
Tonight.
  And you can either sleep there or on the floor.  Naked,” he emphasized the last word.

She gulped, and hesitated, but eventually took a step toward the bed.  “Good girl, now get in,” he said gently, but forcefully.

The bed was soft and warm; she quickly pulled up the comforter, covering herself.  Cole sat down at the edge of the bed.  She scooted away from him a little, but he pretended not to notice.  He handed her a glass of water and two pills. 

“Take these.”  She shook her head.  “You can take them or I can shove them down your throat,” he growled.

The tone of his voice caused her to jump.  She took the pills from his hand, but stared at him instead of swallowing them.  For the first time, she realized how handsome he was, his eyes were a startling gray, his hair was dark and fell in his eyes.  He was captivating. 

“They’ll help you sleep, that’s all.  I promise.” 

Olivia sighed, swallowed them, and emptied the glass of water.  She rested her head against the pillow and watched him set the glass on the nightstand and tuck the comforter under her chin.  Yes, he was handsome and that scared her almost as much as the ordeal she’d just been through.  Her eyelids drooped and she felt the world go fuzzy.   

“Sleep well, Livie.”  Her eyes shot open at the nickname, but closed again and didn’t open.

.     .     .

The next time Olivia opened her eyes it was the morning.  She woke gradually, slowly swimming to the surface in a sea of cozy bedding and comforting dreams.  When her mind finally came into focus she looked around the unfamiliar room and startled.  The events of the day before came rushing back to her, especially Trebble’s beating and abuse.  The man that took her was seated with his back to her at the desk just outside the bedroom.  She sunk down in the bed, pretending to still be asleep, hoping for just a few more minutes to contemplate her situation.  She wondered if he’d slept in the bed with her, the idea made her shiver.

“Good you’re awake. I’ll go get us some breakfast.”  He got up and headed for the door without even looking at her.  “There are some clothes for you in the bathroom. I expect you changed and washed up before I get back.”

She sat up in the bed a moment, not sure what to do.  Should she make a protest of the situation and refuse to leave the bed or should she avoid his anger and a possible beating by doing as he asked?  The thought of getting beaten made her stomach turn and ultimately her bladder settled the debate for her.  A pair of jeans, a tee shirt, and sneakers were among the clothes waiting for her, she raised an eyebrow.  This was definitely not the slave attire she’d been expecting.  She quickly changed and angrily thought of her father and brother.  She pictured them standing in the main tent of a rebel unit, pouring over maps and discussing strategies.  She wondered if they even knew she’d gone missing.  She stood in front of the mirror, looking at herself, feeling utterly alone.

Her hair was a tangled mess, but otherwise, she wasn’t in too bad of shape.  The bathroom had obviously been prepared for a woman’s use, complete with hair brush, face wash, and a pink toothbrush sitting next to a blue one.  She paused, tempted to dunk the blue toothbrush in the toilet, but heard the main door open and got to work brushing her hair instead.  Olivia stayed standing in the bathroom well after she was done washing up, unsure what to do, but certain she didn’t want to go out there and face him. 

“You can come out of there right now or I can go in there and drag you out,” he called to her. “Besides, I’m sure you must be starving.”

It was true, she hadn’t eaten since the prior morning and the idea of breakfast made her stomach growl.  She slowly opened the door and stepped into the bedroom.  He was finishing setting up breakfast on a small dining table in the living room.  She could smell the eggs, bacon, and freshly brewed coffee. 

“Come, sit,” he pulled out one of the chairs.

She didn’t move and he gave her a sad smile.

“Please, sit,” he gestured to the chair and moved to sit in the other, giving her space. 

She did as he said, but kept a wide distance between the two of them as she went to the chair.  He poured her a cup of coffee and as she went to reach for it he grabbed her wrist. 

“Do not fear me, Olivia.  I’m not going to harm you.  Not unless you disobey me and then, it will be to teach you a lesson.  Okay?” 

She didn’t like hearing him say her name, something about the way he said it unnerved her even more, but she managed to nod that she understood.  He held her a moment longer before releasing her.  Picking up her coffee, she took in the fragrant steam before taking a sip.  It was so rich and delicious; she couldn’t help, but smile.

“I almost forgot.  You take great pleasure in food, don’t you?”  She didn’t like his choice of words, but slowly nodded, feeling a blush creep across her face.  “I want you to answer me, otherwise I feel like I’m having a conversation with myself.” He stared at her, waiting for her to respond.

“Yes, I do,” she said softly, looking away from his burning eyes.

“And you enjoy sharing it don’t you?  I watched you, floating around your restaurant in that cute, blue sundress.  You were so happy and engaging.  It grew dark and you switched on the string of lights outside, your skin looked so warm under the glow.  You flittered back and forth from the dining room to the porch.  The customers loved you, they kept pulling you away from your work to talk,” he smiled.  “One old man took your hand and started dancing with you, twirling you around the porch, your skirt swirling around your knees and you were laughing.”  Her eyes grew large like saucers and she dropped her fork.

“You were watching me?” she said, horrified at the thought.

“Of course, we checked out all the women before we took them, but there was something about you.  So I went back to observe you some more. I sat at the corner table outside; I had the chicken and roast vegetables, very good.  You grow the vegetables yourself?”  He, of course, knew the answer, but wanted to get her talking.

“Yes,” her voice was barely above a whisper.  

“All of them, all the time?” he asked. 

She nodded.

“Yes… I built a few hot boxes last fall so we could grow…” she paused, startled he’d got her talking and embarrassed, he probably didn’t want to hear about hot boxes.

“How long have you had your restaurant?” he asked between forkfuls of scrambled eggs.

“Four years.”

“And the chickens?  Did I eat one for my dinner?” He suddenly looked concerned.

“No,” she smiled; unaware she’d done so.  “We only use their eggs.  The chickens are a great help keeping the garden organic.  With compost, eating the …” she stopped, why was she was talking to him, especially about chickens?

They sat in silence for a few minutes; she gnawed on a piece of bacon, consumed by confusion and fear.  He let her mull over her thoughts for a few minutes and in the meantime enjoyed the look of her, her brow crinkled, her lips in a slight pout.  He wondered what her lips would feel like.

“What’s your name?” Her question surprised him and he smiled, amused by her bold inquiry.

“Cole Landon, Lord of the Fourth District, but you are to refer to me as Lord or Lord Landon and nothing else.”

She dropped her eyes to her lap, chewing on her lower lip; she felt tears starting to well up.

“I think that’s all we’ll get from this conversation.”  He threw down his napkin and looked at his watch console. “Besides, we’d better get going,” he said, standing. 

She jerked her head up; she didn’t want to leave the room.

“Keep your head down and stay silent,” he warned, grabbing her by the upper arm and pulling her out of the chair. 

She yelped, tearing herself away from him, more a reaction than rebellion.

“Hey!” he snapped, grabbing her arm again; she flinched, but didn’t try to pull away.  “Don’t make me regret not cuffing you,” he growled, but released her arm and took her by the hand instead. 

They left the room, walked down the hallway, and turned the opposite way they went last time.  She was relieved they were headed away from the great hall and all the men.  There was still an occasional passing soldier, but nothing compared to the swarm in the hall.  When she did see a soldier she walked with her head down, watching her feet shuffle along the carpet, but when he passed her head sprang back up.  She looked all around her, trying to figure out the layout of the fort, but it was like a maze.  She was lost in minutes. 

Just when she thought she couldn’t get more turned around, they were stepping outside.  It was a beautiful, day.  The sun warmed her skin and she raised her face to welcome it.  It was a different courtyard, smaller than the one she was in yesterday with the other women.  There was a large outdoor kitchen where some soldiers were busy chopping vegetables, peeling potatoes, and grilling meat on an open fire in preparation for lunch. 

At the far end of the yard, there was another door, it was wide open and gave a clear view of a kitchen.  People were buzzing around in there too.  Olivia watched a woman kneed bread at a table.  The courtyard itself was surrounded by high walls and while there were other doors and entrance ways, they were all guarded.  In the far corner she spotted a neatly fenced in garden.  She looked up at Cole.

“I have things to do today and I thought you could be of use to Mrs. Wellings, fixing up her miserable garden.” Just then a stout old woman came barreling out of the kitchen.  

Standing next to each other the woman didn’t reach Olivia’s shoulder, but definitely outweighed her by many, many pounds.

“Good morning.  Olivia is it?” she asked, wiping her hands on her apron and leaving behind a smear of flour.  

Olivia just stood there until Cole nudged her.  “Yes,” she blurted out.

“Good, well let me tend to these pesky men and I’ll be right back to show you around.” She walked off to the group of soldiers peeling potatoes.