Innocence Enslaved (22 page)

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?”

Muriel nodded. “I heard him say the horses reacted for no reason. When the commotion died down you were gone.”

“There was a reason the horses got scared. If truth be told, it was indirectly my fault.”

Intrigued, Muriel’s head snapped up. “How?”

She talked while she rinsed out some kitchen rags. “I didn’t tell Corbet this, but Lomb scared the horses as a diversion. My father sent him to bring me back. He was posing as a peddler selling apples while searching for me. He caught sight of me and Corbet when we left the lodge and created the commotion on purpose so he could get to me without anyone noticing.”

“If he was sent to rescue you, why would he bring you back?”

“I asked him to.”

“What?”

“He wasn’t going to. I talked him into it.” Feeling like the fool that she was, she carried some clean clothes to a large boulder they used to dry garments in the sun. As she walked back, she caught Muriel’s worried expression.

“You shouldn’t have come back,” she admonished.

“That’s what I’ve realized.”

“Why did you?”

Emilia shook her head sadly. “You sound like Corbet.”

“You’ve fallen in love with him, haven’t you, Em?” She cocked her head enough to see her while she continued her task.

“Yes! I mean, no… I shouldn’t because he doesn’t feel the same, but I can’t help myself.”

“He feels more than you think. I’ve never seen him so agitated before.”

“Truly?”

“Love,” she huffed, looking skyward in exasperation. “It makes sensible people lose all good sense. You two are as bad as Charles and my mother.” Muriel got up and strode to a line strung between two trees. As she hung several shirts up to dry, Emilia followed with a sheet.

“Your turn,” she said, giving the girl a nudge with her hip.

Muriel bowed her head, hands gripping the coarse rope until her knuckles grew white. “I shouldn’t say, but it isn’t fair that you don’t know. It’s time you did even if I get my hide tanned every shade of red until mother’s arm gives out.”

“What does it have to do with me?”

Muriel didn’t answer right away.

“You’re scaring me.”

“The reason that he moved up his trip…”

“Yes? For heaven’s sake, Muriel, I’ll go mad if you don’t spit it out.”

“It’s to protect you in case Lord Ervin decides to take an interest in you as he did Sara.”

“What do you mean?”

“Remember how I told you how Corbet had to fight to win Sara? That never happens. A contract of indenture is as good as done once it’s signed. It’s unheard of for it to be broken without paying the full bond price. Instead, Lord Ervin decided to play with him, feeling sure he would be defeated, but he won.”

“That’s amazing. How did he do it?”

“I was there that day and saw it myself. It isn’t anything I’ll ever forget.”

“You were there? You couldn’t have been more than nine or ten! Who lets children watch such a thing?”

“One story at a time, please. Which do you want to know, about me at the manor, or how the master won the fair Sara?”

“I want to know about Corbet first.”

She grinned. “That’s what I thought. A
huge crowd had gathered to watch. Men were yelling and shouting as Corbet was shackled to the wooden pillar. He saw his sweet young Sara, bound at Lord Ervin’s side as though she were his already. His face darkened and he shook with such rage that I thought his blood was boiling. Then the earl’s champion entered the field.”

“This?” his loud voice boomed. “This boy is my challenge?”

It was Huan, a giant of a man. His chest was as wide as a barrel and his arms were thick like logs. No one thought Corbet stood a chance. That suited the crowd fine and their blood lust grew to a near frenzy as they began cheering for the champion.

“Torture him,” some cried.

“Make it slow. Skewer him and make him squirm on your pike,” called another.

“No, make it swift and sure. Lop off his head.”

“Don’t matter how,” came a resonant shout. “Just be sure to make him bleed
.
”

Emilia gaped in disbelief. “This is truly an awful, terrible place.”

“As we’ve been telling you,” Muriel said with a roll of her eyes.

“What happened next?”

“Corbet is brave, more so than any man I’ve ever met, and he’s smart. He stayed focused on the big brute being shackled across from him, closing his ears to the roaring crowd until the king exclaimed loudly, ‘Let it begin.’ He raised his sword as the knight lifted his chosen weapon, a tri-headed flail.”