New story! Again! My other one wasn't a very successful one. T'was horrible. DON'T READ IT. --mrawrr--

Summary: This one is about a young mistress who inherited a plantation from her dead father. Her mother is still alive, but too weak to take charge of anything. Among the things the young mistress inherits is a slave. Slowly, those two grow closer and closer together. But then, above everything, there is the ever-looming law that forbids intimate relationships between a servant and his or her master or mistress...

Disclaimer: ... --stomps away--

--Sanded Silk--

"Mrreooow."

Sakura looked down from her embroidery, surprised. "Oh, my goodness!" She cried, when she found that her pet kitten had been clawing at the hem of the cloth she was embroidering on. "Shoo, kitten! Shoo!!" She leaned down and waved her hand rapidly at the kitten, who scampered away with a 'mrowr'.

Sakura sighed, sat back up, and continued her stitching.

Ever since her father had died, things had been hard for her family. Her mother had always been sickly, and was too weak to run the household. Sakura was the only child, and was the only eligible one to take on the job of running the cottom plantation her father ran. Besides, he had named her to be his successor.

It was harder than she had suspected. There was the constant need to deal slyly and wittingly with landlords and slave dealers without breaking whatever deal her father had made with them, and it was harder still to keep track of the sales and harvesting accounts in the leather-bound book her father used to keep track of such things. Sakura had never been one at mathematics.

But these things had to be dealt with. Her mother tutored her from her bed, and Sakura listened intently, eager to learn and to successfully run the plantation.

As for talking to other people, Sakura had to learn by herself.

This particular day, she had a bit of free time. Her father's extra men were supervising the cotton harvesting, for it was fall, and the cotton had to be picked.

Watching the slaves pick the cotton was painful. The cotton sported a hard, sharp shell, with pointy edges- pointy enough to prick one's finger on. Bit by bit, the slaves would bloody their hands more and more, until they were gritting their teeth visibly as they walked through the huge fields, tediously picking up the cotton and prying the shells off, trying not to tear their hands up more.

So, Sakura chose to embroider, in a room where the windows did not face the fields, where she wouldn't have to watch the slaves suffer. She could hear, however, the voices of the slaves as they sang their usual songs to relieve their pain. Their voices floated as one into the window, surrounding her. Sakura secretly found it comforting to listen to their valiant voices as they struggled to withstand the pain that cotton-picking brought upon them.

When the sun was sitting lazily on the horizon and the dinner bell rang, Sakura gently put down her embroidering. She stood up, shaking out her booted feet and dusting off her full skirts. With another glance around the room, Sakura walked down to the dining room.

As she walked down, slaves began to fill the large hallways to the kitchen and the dining room. They were sweaty, and theyr clothes and hands were torn. Some had bloodied feet as well. Sakura noticed, with a pang, that a young child had walked into he hallway from another door, limping. She made a note to herself to prepare bandages and maybe get some cream for their wounds.

Just as she was about to turn a corner, she tripped on her skirt. Her booted foot slipped, and she plummeted forward with a squeal.

Just as she was about to hit the floor, a pair of sweaty, muscled arms caught her, wrapping around her small back and slim waist. Though her stomach wasn't touching anything, she could feel heat radiating off of the other person's chest, and feel the other person's breath brush her neck and cheeks. She opened her eyes, and found herself staring into a pair of silver eyes framed by dark lashes and alabastrine skin- the face of one of the man-servants.

When he lifted her up effortlessly and set her down gently on her feet, she had the opportunity to see more of his face. He was almost a whole head taller than her- a perfectly-chiseled jaw connected to a long, lanky figure by a strong neck. He was pale, but not sickly-pale. He had dark chestnut hair that hung down to his mid-back, tied back into a loose ponytail with a white piece of string. He was shirtless, as were the other male slaves. His bare chest, wrapped and encircled in muscles, heaved and glistened with sweat. His eyes, pale and emotionless, bore into her head, taking in her visage, as she did the same to him.

Finally, he broke the silence., opening his parched, thin lips. "Watch where you're going." And then he was gone, sliding around her gracefully and mixing in with the rest of the crowd.

"W-Wait!" Sakura snapped out of her stupor, and took a step after the mysterious slave, holding out her hand. But he had already disappeared.

More to herself than to anyone else, Sakura whispered, "Thank you."

After dinner, which had been potato-and-beef stew, Sakura returned to her room. During the meal and the walk back to her quarters, she kept her eyes peeled for the strange slave, but didn't see him. It was as if he had completely disappeared from the plantation.

Even if he had disappeared, however, he was still imprinted clearly in Sakura's mind, and his presence in her head altered her usual alertness that night. Her mother noticed, when they were saying their evening prayers together.

After they both ended the prayer, Sakura was about to get up and blow out the candle, but her mother stopped her, placing a hand on her arm. Sakura looked down, confused. Her mother was staring intently up at her with her smoky black eyes. "Sakura," She said evenly, strongly, as if she weren't sick and bed-ridden at all. "Something is wrong."

"Yes?" Sakura knelt down politely, waiting for her mother to continue. But to her dismay, her mother shook her head. "No," She said, "I mean about you. Is something on your mind? Someone?"

At the word 'someone', Sakura flinched and looked away.

The edges of her mother's eyes crinkled with a smile. "I thought so. Any woman my age can detect the symptons of being in love."

Sakura frowned, her nose pinching. "Mom," She whined, "I am not in love." Her mother just stared at her with un-convinced eyes. Sakura leaned back in her small chair, pinching the bridge of her nose and closing her eyes. "Mother," She said calmly, defiantly. "I am not in love."

Her mother gazed at her for another long moment, before finally leaning her head back into her thick pillows. "All right, Sakura," She said gently. "I believe you." Sakura couldn't detect whether it was sincerity or sarcasm in her voice, but she didn't stop to ponder it. She kissed her mother good-night, blew out the candle, and swept out of the room in a flurry of skirts.

It had begun to rain. Sakura noticed this as she walked through the fenced, wall-less halls that lead from the main building to her quarters. It was dark, but the sound of pattering raindrops and the faint light from the outdoor lamps showed her that rain was indeed falling from the sky. Shivering, Sakura walked faster, but stopped short when she saw someone standing out in the rain, face tilted toward the sky.

Sakura walked to the edge of the walkway and leaned against the railing, her hands resting on the wooden pole. She stuck her head out into the rain as far as she dared and squinted into the darkness, trying to make out the figure.

The person seemed to have long hair, yet Sakura could tell from his body structure that he was a man. He was shirtless, and wore a pair of baggy pants that blew in the rainy breeze. His face was tilted upwards, so Sakura couldn't see who exactly he was.

Then, as if on cue, his head turned, and stopped in her direction. Sakura knew he was looking at her. She squinted harder at his face, and finally saw his eyes- two sharp, pearl orbs embedded in his face. The sight of his eyes made her jump and shiver harder. It was him- that slave who had caught her when she tripped.

For a moment, neither moved. The two young people stared at each other, one soaking wet and the other about to get soaking wet. The man did not blink once, even though the rain was starting to pour harder and harder down.

Suddenly, a shaft of lightning split the dark fabric of the night sky, ripping a streak of light into the dark depths, and Sakura saw his whole visage, heavily shadowed, for a split second. His pale skin, dark hair, chiseled jaw- she saw it all, only for a split second. But that split second was enough; it showed her everything she wanted to see. it really was him, with his smooth, emotionless face and his flawless, pale skin stretched tightly over his muscled abdomen and arms.

For a moment, after the lightning struck, she was blinded. When her eyes slowly got accustomed to the dark, she saw that the young man had turned fully towards her and was walking towards her. She stood up straight, feeling the shadows of the wooden cieling she was standing underneath cast a shadow over her viridian eyes. She kept her feet firmly planted into the ground underneath her, never straying her eyes from the approaching man.

Inside, however, she was shaking with nervousness. Why was he coming towards her? What was he going to do? What should she do?

For a moment, Sakura considered turning tail and running. But she was frozen, and couldn't move a muscle. It was as if staring in to the approaching slave's eyes had paralyzed her.

When another flash of lightning tore through the sky, she saw that he had arrived at the fence, and was leaning against it toward her, his wet hair hanging in his face and down his shoulders and his white eyes gazing intently at her.

Sakura jumped slightly and fell backwards, but the man's vice-like grip wrapped around her forearms and tilted her back into a standing position, but closer to him than before. He engulfed her into a crushing embrace against his rain-drenched chest. Sakura leaned in unhesitantly, not minding his wet skin, and breathed in his familiar, exotic scent, rubbing her cheek against his chest and indulging herself in the feel of his muscled arms around her body.

Then, swiftly and smoothly, he lifted her off her feet until his face was level to hers. Sakura had to fight to keep her eyes open, and through the fuzzy crack of her eyelashes, she could see his silver eyes, lidded and blazing with lust, boring into her face as if he could read her soul.

He leaned in, and his breath brushed her chin and jaw. She shivered, and her eyes closed. She felt his lips come closer and closer to hers, and the feeling drove her to the edge of her consciousness.

And then, their lips touched. Parched, wet skin touched soft, dry skin. Sakura's body limped in the stranger's arms, and she felt her consciousness rapidly slip from her grasp as the darkness closed in, and the scent of the mysterious slave filled her head.

A/N: Hmm. This chappie is going on for too long, so I am going to stop it here. Please review!! Tell me what you think, or else I will add this story to my collection of stopped stories!!

--Sanded Silk--