They had taken the carriage into town. The weather was exceptionally pleasant with a subtle breeze stirring the trees that dotted the land and white, fluffy clouds drifted languidly across the bright, blue sky. The sun emitted warm rays of light upon the township and its inhabitants crowding the cobblestone streets.
Ginelle stayed close to Lucile as they ushered their way through the crowd of bodies jostling through the market. There was a combined smell of freshly baked bread and the rancid odor of raw fish clinging to the air. Ginelle gasped just as a chicken released a high-pitch cry and hustled past her feet. A stray dog stood off in the corner street barking repeatedly at those who dare get too close.
Vendors stood aside, eagerly persuading bystanders to examine their merchandise. The crowd contained men in top-hats and fancy threads; women garbed in genteel attire clung to the arm of their gentleman and children of the street nudged their way through the crowd after a tiny ball dancing between the many sets of patent-leather boots and dainty slippers.
Lucile was unaware of the clamorous array, so absorbed in her task the older woman hastened through the crowd with swift strides towards her intended destination. Ginelle struggled to keep pace with the housekeeper as her eyes danced warily through the crowd.
She tried to convince herself that she was safe. Would he single her out in this vast crowd?
Her fear kept her on edge and aware of every motion. It was her keen observation that made her come to a sudden halt in the hub of bodies crushing her. She could just see Lucile's ample frame disappear in a flood of color as men and women swept by her.
Her gaze fixated on a small child, a tiny boy, slipping close to a cart consisting of sweets. She felt her heart constrict as the child peered around, his sad eyes sunken in his small face as he looked to see if anyone noticed his little body creeping toward it.
When he thought no one watched, he reached up with much strain to wrap his little fingers around a candy.
It came so suddenly, neither Ginelle nor the small boy expected it. The vendor stepped forward without warning and slapped the boy down. Ginelle inhaled sharply; horrified as she recalled the fear she felt that day she attempted to take an apple.
She knew the vendor would retaliate and she could see the utter terror etched into the child's face as she pushed her way through the crowd toward the boy.
The vendor's face flushed a vivid red as he reached within the cart and seconds later withdrew a folded object from within. Ginelle's eyes widened in profound horror as he unraveled the object and revealed a bullwhip. The long, leather lash spiraled to the ground and the vendor twisted his wrist to situate it between his hands before extending it above his head with the intention of bringing it violently down on the boy.
Ginelle couldn't bear the idea of the pain the boy would suffer and she wouldn't stand for it. Taking the risk of being struck dead on, she rushed forward and firmly placed herself between the vendor and the whimpering child. She knelt at the child's side, quickly assessing the boy for injuries.
The vendor blanched and lowered the ugly whip but his hand remained firm as he gripped the handle. He narrowed his eyes at her and hissed through clenched teeth, "Get out of my way, woman." He growled, "I will teach this boy a lesson."
Despite her fear and the curious audience growing around them, she remained firm, determined to protect the child. "I will not!"
His face pinched with immediate rage as his fingers tightened around the handle of the whip. "Then I will strike you!"
Her unyielding gaze never wavered, daring him to follow through on his threat. When he lifted his hand she felt a fleeting moment of panic as a number of gasps collected from the crowd.
The vendor jerked his hand back, unwinding the leather whip. He snapped his wrist in full circle and brought the lash fully around. Ginelle reacted in fear as she swung her arm upward to protect her face and braced her body for the pain.
There was a sudden flicker of black as a heavy shadow fell at her side and the unmistakable sound of leather wrapped itself around flesh and bone.
Ginelle pressed a hand to her mouth as she stared at the ghastly sight of leather tightly bound around bronze skin. She jerked her eyes to Dorian's enraged face, his eyes like blue fire as he jerked on the whip and the vendor stumbled into Dorian's iron grasp.
Strong fingers curled around the vendor's throat, lifting the man easily above the ground. Ginelle stood and stepped back as Dorian hurled the man backwards, his body snapping the cart in two as sweets littered the cobblestone.
Chaos erupted on the street, beggars rushed forward to seize the fallen pastries as women scolded the unconscious vendor and men glared, ushering their women from the horrendous display. Some spectators stood aside, whispering amongst each other, exchanging inquisitive glances.
Ginelle spun around, expecting to find the small boy, but there was no child. She lifted her head to spot the boy running through the crowd, he paused and turned back to look at her. He smiled tentatively, clutched in his arms braced against his chest was an accumulation of sweets. She smiled, relieved to see the boy unharmed.
She stiffened as her gaze connected with sharp, blue eyes. He had been watching her, all the while the ugly leather wrapped around his arm.
Ginelle drew in a sharp breath as she stepped towards him, her eyes transfixed on his arm. "Can you get it off?" she asked, fearful of what lay beneath.
Slowly, he began to unwind the leather. The lash had cut clear around his arm and fresh blood oozed from the lacerated flesh.
Ginelle reacted instinctively, reaching down she ripped a good portion of her skirt and moved to take his arm delicately between her fingers, and unaware that she caused him further pain that had nothing to do with his injury she began to wrap it tenderly around his wound.
"Thank you." She said in a soft, gentle voice as her fingers worked to bind his injury.
He stood motionless, marveling at the touch of her fingers moving tenderly over his arm and the tears glistening in her gentle eyes. Did she cry for him?
He had felt a maddening instinct, a momentum bordering the line of possessiveness surge through his body as an unspeakable rage drove him to her side. The very thought of the lash marring her skin enraged him beyond conveying.
His arm burned but he paid no heed to the injury for it was in no comparison to the fire burning in his veins. He watched as a breeze lifted a single strand of blond hair, releasing it to rest lightly on a delicate cheekbone. He resisted the urge to reach out and remove it and trace that very spot with his fingers.
The moment he entered the market and spotted her, he had envisioned Eloise doing the same for a pretty child but that child was now a woman and she had dared a man to strike her down for a small boy. Her bravado amazed him. The tears she shed now for his lacerated arm stunned him.
He focused on her blond head, bent over his arm, focused intently on the task at hand, unaware of his smoldering gaze moving over her.
Aye, he wanted her, desired her with a fire in his belly. She knew nothing of a man's touch. She knew not what transpired between a man and a woman and he had a compelling compulsion to teach her the thralls of passion.
He felt that swift tightening in his groin and immediately stiffened. The way she affected, by the merest touch, drove him mad.
Dorian jerked his arm from her touch, feeling as though she had seared him. She stepped back, her eyes wide with uncertainty to his sudden change in mood.
The muscle at his jaw tightened as her expression altered to puzzlement. The fire in his groin combined with the unnerving affect she had on him only worsened his temperament.
"Mayhap you should think twice in risking your life for a lowly peasant; tis feeble-minded." He hissed through clenched teeth. "The boy had what was coming."
She stiffened, suddenly furious. "Is that what you think?" she demanded, "That a mere child should suffer intolerably because he is hungry? That a lowly peasant deserves such harsh treatment?"
His expression hardened and he stepped towards her and she tensed beneath the harsh scrutiny of his stare.
"Ginelle!" Lucile's cry rang out from the crowd as she suddenly appeared, carrying her purchase in her hands as she rushed forward.
The housekeeper stopped abruptly as she spotted Dorian's bloodied arm. "Milord, what happened?" her face paled as she examined the torn flesh.
His eyes remained on Ginelle as he said, "Lucile, take Ginelle home-" he turned then to glare darkly at the older woman, his mouth set in a grim line as he continued, "-and the next time you take an outing, make sure she is not compelled to do anything foolish again."
Lucile merely nodded and stepped away as Dorian swept past her and disappeared in the thickened crowd. The older woman averted her worried stare to Ginelle who merely stood gripping a piece of her dress soaked with blood.
The carriage ride back to Ashford was silent. Lucile had flooded her with questions but Ginelle had been too angry to answer them and eventually the older maid had given up.
His harsh comment continued to replay in her mind.
Risking your life for a lowly peasant is feeble-minded. The boy had what was coming. Did he think so poorly of those less fortunate? Did he think so poorly of her? She had been a lowly peasant; did he believe she had deserved to starve, to be beaten?
She fought against tears but they came anyhow, rolling down her cheeks to fall in her lap. How could she have ever admired him? How could she have ever thought him different?
Yet, he had taken the brunt of the lash. Why would he do such a thing if he thought so little of her?
**********
He couldn't rid his thoughts of her. She had somehow slipped beneath his skin, smelling sweet of heather. He could still smell that lovely scent. Her innocence and delicate beauty stirred him unlike any other. He wanted her as if he had never had a woman.
Dorian resisted a low growl as he trotted towards the fields, eager to place his mind elsewhere. Once he had returned from town, he bandaged his injury and proceeded on towards the croplands to relieve some of his men.
Instantly, he noticed many of the laborers stiffen at his approach. Dorian surveyed the slaves as they worked intensively, digging at the ground with grub hoes.
Most of the men tending his fields had been purchased from the slave market. A majority of them were thieves with a small handful of criminals added to the mix. These were the particular few he ordered whipped. They cast venomous looks occasionally his way in between digging.
He narrowed his eyes, accessing them from behind. He was not one to stand over his men with a lash and snap the whip any time they dared to glare his way. He was accustomed to their sharp stares and rigid spines. There were many that loathed him and wanted nothing more than to cut his throat in the night but others respected him for he was not as other masters, eager to flog their man at the slightest mishap. He neither starved them nor deprived them of shelter. They were given meals throughout the day and after working an extensive dawn till dusk, proceeded to their lodgings.
As their overseer, he maintained ordinance and respect. For those that dare step out line, attempting revolt, were immediately corrected. The whip was obtained only when he saw fit to use it and whenever something or someone stood in his way of the trade, the lash was significant.
The sudden roll of a carriage brought his laborers up short and Dorian stiffened. He turned in the saddle to see Lucile descend from the carriage. He unknowingly held his breath, anticipating the sudden blast of silver-blond hair to follow in wake of the housekeeper.
When she came into view, he released the sharp breath he had been holding. She held her skirts in one hand as she extended the other to the coachman. Even from the distance separating them, he could clearly make out the crimson blush staining her cheeks.
As if sensing his eyes on her, she looked up and their eyes clashed. His heart accelerated in his chest, his blood hastening through his veins with a burning desire to feel those lips beneath his own; to taste her as he had done at the river.
The moment his lips had touched hers, he had been ensnared. His intention had been to punish her, but the punishment was his own for he suffered intolerably.
Lucile muttered something and instantly the trance was broken. She tore her eyes away and continued on towards the manor.
He forced his attention back to the task at hand and felt an immediate rage seize him at the many eyes following the blond-beauty into the house.
"Get back to work!" he roared.
Immediately, the slaves jerked into motion and began digging, Dorian took notice that a few lingered, slowly moving back to their task.
He narrowed his eyes at them before stealing another glance towards the manor. He was relieved to find her out of sight but far from his mind.
**********
"What were you thinking?" Lucile demanded as they stepped into the parlor. Ginelle turned her back to the housekeeper and stared at the piano, her heart sinking as an image of Eloise came to mind, her fingers gliding smoothly along the keys. "You could have severely been injured." The older woman continued.
Ginelle curled her hands at her sides and turned to Lucile with tears in her eyes. "What would you have me do? Watch helplessly as a poor child is beaten because he is hungry?"
Lucile stiffened, taken aback by Ginelle's broken expression. The housekeeper was stunned for it was as if Eloise were alive, her spirit planted firmly in Ginelle. How could she be angry with the girl for doing exactly what Eloise had done nearly four years ago?
She softened her visage, "I am sorry, my dear." The older woman's face revealed a sadness that Ginelle had only witnessed in brief moments. "Just promise me that you will not do anything like that again."
Ginelle nodded but she knew in her heart that she could not watch an innocent suffer. She was not so cruel and merciless like him.
Lucile straightened and all traces of emotion fled as her solemn disposition resurfaced. She gathered her purchase from earlier and proceeded on towards the kitchen in search of Cook.
Ginelle slowly turned back to the piano to run her fingers along the smooth, black surface. She would not regret what she had done. Though Dorian had been harsh in his words, he couldn't be so cruel as to wish harm upon a mere child?
Her thoughts were skeptical as she left the parlor and continued upstairs towards her room. As she turned the corner, she collided roughly with another body. She gasped as two hands shot out and shoved her roughly back. She stumbled into the wall, just narrowly missing the stair way. Her heart thrust against her chest in sudden alarm and she jerked her head up to the body standing over her.
Ingrid's eyes narrowed to bright, green slits of deep distaste. Her red hair was pulled back into a tight chignon at the top of her head, enhancing the cruel angles of her face. She planted her hands firmly on her hips as she glowered down at Ginelle, a nasty sneer curling the corners of her mouth as she said, "I apologize, milady. I did not see you." Her voice dripped with malice and she smirked as she sauntered away.
Shaken, Ginelle pulled herself upright and stared after Ingrid's retreating back. Her hands trembled at her sides but she refused to show her fear. Had Ingrid truly intended to push her down the stairs?
Gathering her skirts, she hastened towards her room, fearful that the maid would be lurking behind. When she came to her door, she paused as she reached for the latch. The door was parted, as if someone had already been inside.
She straightened to peer down the hall but Ingrid was gone. Turning back to the door, she waited a moment before pushing it open. She stared around to find nothing amiss and than she heard the distinct chirp of birds and the flood of sunlight pouring into the chamber from the open window, eased her fears.
Even as she closed the door and felt somewhat secure, she couldn't help but fathom a lingering thought in the back of her mind. Had Ingrid intended to hurt her? Had she imagined her Ingrid shoving her?
**********