Bound to Serve

Bound To Serve

By

Sullivan Clarke

©2012 by Blushing Books® and Sullivan Clarke

Copyright © 2012 by Blushing Books® and Sullivan Clarke

All rights reserved.  No part of the book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

Published by Blushing Books®,

a subsidiary of

ABCD Graphics and Design

977 Seminole Trail #233

Charlottesville, VA 22901

The trademark Blushing Books® is registered in the US Patent and Trademark Office.

Clarke, Sullivan

Bound to Serve

eBook ISBN: 978-1-60968-647-5

Cover Design by ABCD Webmasters

This book is intended for
adults only
.  Spanking and other sexual activities represented in this book are fantasies only, intended for adults.  Nothing in this book should be interpreted as advocating any non-consensual spanking activity or the spanking of minors.

Blushing Publications thanks you whole-heartedly for your purchase with us!

Blushing Books is one of the oldest eBook publishers on the web.  We've been running websites which publish spanking and BDSM related romance and erotica since 1999, and we have been selling eBooks since 2003.  We hope you'll check out our hundreds of offerings at

http://www.blushingbooks.com

You might also enjoy our membership site at
http://www.herwoodshed.com
, where we offer an exclusive first look at new novels and novellas by some of our most popular authors before they are released anywhere else.

WOULD YOU LIKE A FREE SPANKING eBOOK EVERY MONTH?

At
http://www.blushingbooks.com
, we provide our visitors with a free eBook every single month!  That's right, every month we choose an eBook to give to our customers at no charge, both to show our gratitude for your business and also to provide a sample of the content we offer.

Can you read this free eBook on your Kindle? Yes! Once you’re logged onto our site, it’s easy to send a book right to your Kindle. 

Can you read it on your iPad?  Yes!  Your Kobo?  Yes!  Your Nook?  YES! 

We provide all of our books on BlushingBooks.com in several formats so that you can read our stories on virtually any reader!  Membership at BlushingBooks.com is free, so sign up today and get your free story right now!

Chapter One

Elspeth McDonald looked down at the face of the young woman whose head was cradled in her lap, choking back tears as she saw the pale lips moved in what she knew were the redhead’s final words.

“Tell my mum….” The words ended in a strangled gasp and Elspeth covered her mouth in grief as the blue eyes determined stare gave way to the unseeing glassiness of death.

Elspeth looked at the vacant eyes, not wanting to believe that her companion’s journey had taken such a cruel twist that had taken her not to the colonies, but into the afterlife. Even now, she could hear the excitement above deck, the shouts of land.

A face appeared on the stairs above, grizzled for one so young but bearing a hopeful expression so different than the weary masks they’d all gotten used to.

“Elspeth! Come see. It’s Virginia!”

“I’ll be up in a moment, Ronald.” She’d not marred her cousin’s excitement with news of the death, not that it would matter. Neither of them had gotten to know the dead woman, who had started complaining of stomach pains three days earlier. She’d died slowly, and in agony and Elspeth now hurriedly fished through her pockets for some form of identification that would provide a clue to who she was. “Tell my mum..” she’d said.

She found only a locket in the soiled apron and popped it open to reveal a picture of a thin, birdlike woman with a red-headed tot on her lap. In desperation, Elspeth pulled the picture from the locket and looked at the back. “Maggie Adair and daughter Emma.”

“Emma.” Elspeth looked down at the young woman, placed the picture back in the locket and then pocketed it with a silent promise to its owner that she’d return it to Maggie Adair along with news of her daughter’s fate. For now, there was nothing more she could do.

The shouts from above were louder now and the hold was thrown open, emitting bright light that hurt her eyes.

“Out! Out now! All of ye!” a man barked. Elspeth recognized the voice as that of George Hampton, the agent who’d arranged the passage of her and many of her companions. She wondered if he’d arranged Emma Adair’s as well and rushed to climb the rickety stairs that led to the upper deck.

The sticky salt air hit her face in a cool blast as she emerged. Struggling to remain balanced, for she’d never quite developed her sea legs despite the long voyage, Elspeth scanned the crowd for Hampton and finally caught sight of his cap as he scurried through the passengers, whom he curtly ordered to queue up for departure.

When Elspeth reached him, the ferret-faced Hampton regarded her with irritation. “Queue up,” he snarled, and have your identification at the ready for your new employer.”

“I shall,” Elspeth said, but refused to move when he took her arm to move her into line. “But first you should know that one of the passengers has died.”

Hampton’s sigh was not one of pity, but of agitation. “Who?”

“Emma Adair.” She pulled the locket from inside her cloak and was about to hand it to the agent, but stopped when he exploded in outrage and began to pace the deck, muttering about this new “inconvenience.”

Disgusted, Elspeth tucked the locket back in her cloak, knowing that Hampton wouldn’t care that her family got it back.

This time, when she was ushered into line, she stayed and looked for the first time at the fast-approaching shoreline dotted with buildings. She felt a pang of loss so strong that her knees nearly buckled. Nothing in this strange land held any resemblance to her beloved Scotland, with its cliff-lined shores, green mountains and towering waterfalls. This place was flat and drab. The smell of smoke and livestock wafted across the water to mingle with the unpleasant smells of the ship. Elspeth closed her eyes and tried to concentrate on the woman she’d agreed to serve - a widow who needed assistance with household chores. Elspeth had not been born to wealth, and had spent much of her young life caring for elder members of her extended family. But a particularly hard winter had taken its toll on the elderly, and when poverty forced their hand, she and some able members of her family had gambled on a chance to forge a new life in the colonies in hopes that one day they could pay transport for more relatives to join them later.

But first, Elspeth would have to serve for seven years as a maid. She hoped the woman she was to serve would be kind and patient. To assuage her fears, she’d pictured a matronly, bespectacled lady with a ready laugh and kind eyes that crinkled at the corners when she laughed. Elspeth’s eyes scanned the homes along the shore. Was one of them to be her new home?

The ship had docked now and she felt herself pushed along with the others as they made their way down the gangplank. At the base, a crowd of people stood waiting. Elspeth figured they were the employers and scanned the faces looking for an older woman, but was jostled along so roughly that she had to turn her attention back to where she was walking so she wouldn’t trip.

When her legs reached solid ground, Elspeth felt as if they were made of wood and she found walking awkward. Looking around, she saw from the shuffling gaits that others shared the situation.

“You, girl! What’s your name again?” Hampton walked over to her, holding a piece of paper. Behind him was a tall, severe looking man with sharp features and sandy blonde hair.

“Elspeth McDonald, sir.” She found herself staring addressing Hampton but staring at the stern-faced man. “I’m to be in service of the widow ---”

“There’s been a change of plans.” Hampton grabbed her arm and thrust her towards the other man, as if she were a package he was delivering.

“Here, you can take this one,” he said. “She’s smaller than the one that died, but she’s from the high country.” Hampton squeezed Elspeth’s arm. “Small but sturdy.”

Elspeth turned on him, angry. “No,” she said, shaking her head. “I did not agree to this!” She looked at the tall man, as if somehow expecting him to come to her defense. “I came here to serve the widow…” She reached into her cloak to find the contract and then realized that Hampton had all the contracts in his possession. As if reading her mind, he smiled toothily. Elspeth was reminded of a ferret.

“You’re mistaken,” he said. “Your agreement is with this man, Mr. Clifford Harker.”

Elspeth’s eyes filled with tears. Being unable to read or write, she’d put her mark on the agreement but had no idea what it said, and had relied on Hampton’s word as to its content. Now that he was changing the terms, she had no defense. She watched helplessly as the tall man passed the agent a handful of money furious that Hampton was profiting from the betrayal.

“I suggest you go along like a good girl,” the agent said. “Unless you’re so unhappy with your arrangement that you’d prefer to pay now for passage back home.”

Elspeth’s face reddened. She only had the clothes on her back and the meager contents of the bag she carried.

“This way.” She turned and looked up at her new employer, who surveyed her with more curiosity than kindness. He was well-dressed and well-groomed, but had a sort of weariness about him that Elspeth generally associated with the despair she’d witnessed in her struggling countrymen. There was a darkness about his man that frightened her and Elspeth suddenly felt a tug of fear that tethered her to the spot even as Clifford Harker stepped towards his carriage.”

“There’s a mistake,” she said again. “I’m supposed to be in service of an older woman.”

He turned to her. “Do you know her name?”

“Middleton? Or Middleburg?” Elspeth furrowed her brow. She couldn’t remember the exact name, and had trusted the agent to remind her.

Harker stopped. “There was a Lacy Middleton,” he said. “And she was a widow, but she died a fortnight ago.” He paused. “There has been a lot of death this year, including my own wife. That is why I sought the services of Mr. Hampton. My wife, while alive, was in desirous of help. Now that she’s dead desire has become necessity. I’ve two sons at home, and no help to care for them.”

He opened the door of the carriage. “I’m not in the habit of explaining myself, especially not to servants. So I shall say no more of this. Now get in.”

For a moment, Elspeth stood there wondering what would become of her if she turned and walked away. The docks behind her were rapidly clearing; the few familiar faces she’d come to know on the ship were gone, leaving only sketchy, hard-looking men. She shuddered at what fate might befall a poor woman alone.

Avoiding her employer’s eyes, she stepped into the carriage and swallowed hard as it lurched along the pitted road bearing her to an uncertain future.

***

Clifford Harker had not wanted to come to the Americas any more than his new servant and in retrospect he wished he had stayed in London. His flighty young wife, Caroline, had seen the whole thing as an adventure. The filth of the city depressed her, and she fancied the life of being wife to a gentleman farmer. A large inheritance had opened a world of possibilities to Harker, and his wife reminded him that there as a wide world outside of England rumored to be full of opportunities.

Harker had never been a man to be swayed by the fancies of women, but in this case he knew Caroline’s whims had at least some merit. Acquainted who’d left for the colonies sent back word of hard work that yielded a good return for those who had money to invest. And Caroline was right about another thing - the city was becoming a cesspool. The notion of open land where his sons could grow strong from clean air and hard work also appealed to him, especially since their oldest son struggled with a persistent breathing ailment.

It had taken him two months to get his affairs in order and another month to book passage on a vessel with suitable comforts for him and his family. But the trip had been worth it and within a year he was realizing his dream of running a productive farm that shipped crops and lumber back to England.

Work kept Clifford Harker busy, but even with two sons Caroline found time to fret about the unexpected isolation. Soon she was clamoring to go back to England.

“It’s too late for that,” her husband had reminded her. “We’ve too much invested to just leave. In a few years…”