Sry guys, I got worse instead of better.

Anyhow, while I read the reviews, I don't think I got to respond to many. But I wanted to thank you all. I could not ask for a better group of readers/ reviewers. You ALL are amazing. I never thought I would get such a great response.

Next chapter is written and coming soon.

Hugs

Andi


"Oh God, How I hate Edward Cullen," I ranted to myself, my eyes fixed on the door. I let my hand snake behind me to rub out some of the fire still remaining in my rear end.

He brought new definition to the word cruel!

I tried to calm my anger, but resorted to storming about the room like a caged lion, throwing his perfectly placed processions to the ground. I let all my rage out, all the while trying to push the picture of his perfect face from my mind. But even with all the hate that was seething in me, his crooked smile remained, his tender kisses still lingered on my skin and the places he had touched still burned hot with his hand-prints.

I had just cleared his God damn orderly desk with a swift swipe of my arm, when her vinegary laughter erupted and echoed off the walls. I spun on my heels to see her leaned casually in the door frame, a pitiless smirk on her face.

"Don't mind me, I'm enjoying this as much as you," Rose chortled with a graceful shrug. For some reason I believed her, her beautiful face showed no signs of trickery. Self-consciously I tugged at the edges of the shirt I was wearing. Next to her, I was so plain it was almost laughable.

Then I looked around at the damage I had done. Flustered, I stooped down to gather several quills that were now littered about my feet.

"Leave it! I'll just leave the door open. Enough people hate Edward that it very easily could be blamed on any one of them."

I looked up and gazed at her in confusion. She tossed me a white smock and came in and closed the door behind her.

"We're to do the washing with the slave women, you and I," she explained in a sulky tone. She looked me over with a sour expression.

Oh yes, he did say I was going to assist his mother.

I quickly pulled on the plain white dress, delighted at the chance to be free of his room, at the same time unsure of the company. She stiffly nodded in approval then led me from my dungeon into the hall. Gracefully, she floated across the hall and knocked on the door.

"Tanya dear, it's me," she called impatiently. The door flung open and the curvy strawberry-blonde set her hateful gaze on me.

"What are you doing with that scum?" She asked in Dane. She clearly was disgusted by the sight of me.

"Oh, the washing…Emmett's sentenced me to help out since he feels that I don't appreciative the endless freedoms he has so graciously given me!" Her booming impersonation of him was faultless. The washing was apparently her punishment, woman's work, as Alice had called it. "Edward wants her out of his room during the day," she added moving her eyes non to discreetly to me. Tanya toyed with a curl of hair and looked me over with deliberation.

"You can come and sit by the river. My mother will be toiling over her needle work in the shade, making sure I'm actually doing the wash. You can join her and keep me company," she suggested evenly. Tanya's eyes had not left my face; she had slipped into a deep trance of abhorrence.

"I'll not being going near her filthy body. But you can have her carry my winter dresses down, only don't let the whore touch them after they are clean," she told Rose as she pranced away to fetch the stuff.

When she returned she piled them in my arms, granting me an evil smile then closing the door.

"What did she say?" I asked as Rose and I walked on.

"Oh, just that she was glad to meet you and happy to give you her wash," Rose answered without pause. I almost burst out laughing at her lies, but bit my tongue instead.

"And she is-"

"-Tanya is Edward's betrothed. But Edward has not yet set a date for their union," Rose stated plainly.

"What is he waiting for?" I asked thrilled at the idea of an escape. I could take the room across the hall and that Tanya girl could deal with Edward's drunken tirades.

"Edward has more than just himself to think of….he's waiting…he's waiting…" she stopped for a moment then caught herself. "His reasons are his own. Not even I understand all of them. And the ones I do understand I cannot just go about and speak of freely. They will marry in due time."

"And she knows that I sleep with him?"

Rose turned and laughed at me, before pulling further down the hall. I'm sure she could tell that I found the idea of such openness strange.

"It is not uncommon for a man to seek pleasure. We do not see any purpose of hiding it," she said tartly. "As a wife it is a woman's job to understand her husband's needs. If Emmett wished to bed someone else, it would be my place to let him." She said the words as if they were practiced, precise and clear, but I could tell they were quite painful to force out.

"Tanya knows this too. Just allow her time to adjust," she added jerking me out a door and into the open air.

"And if a woman were to seek pleasure elsewhere?" I asked stepping into the sunlight. I think I knew the response, but I had to ask it anyway. The Vikings were ever surprising me.

"If a woman were to seek pleasure else where, it would end up is with her neck being sliced from her shoulders. It does not happen," she supplied quickly, before turning away.

I took in the harshness of the sentence, stopping to hitch my breath; I then paced my strides to catch up with her. We walked down through the town until we reached its edge, and then continued on down an incline toward a river.

Washing day looked like a grand production. There were six dozen people, four boiling kettles of water and baskets full of linens and clothes. Rose groaned as she led me closer, I could tell she viewed this as unjust torture.

In the mid-morning shade, I could make out Edward's mother sitting with a few others. She was intently picking at her needlework while she talked, gazing up every so often to look for someone. She smiled slightly when she saw us, and then awarded her daughter a stern stare. My eyes scanned around for a moment.

"She is not here. Jasper locked her up thanks to you," Rose chortled with a callousness I was beginning to become familiar with. I glared at her. "Oh don't worry about Alice. Jasper only locked her up for her own safety. Edward wanted to throttle her earlier this morn. At the most Jasper will just give her a smack or two; he's too kind to do much more."

With that she tugged the load from my hands and began to sort it, divvying it out to the slave women, giving an order with each garment. They were quick to do what she said.

"Rosalie Lillian, you are not here to direct; you are here to help!" Her mother called from a distance. Rose shot her mother the most venomous glance then mumbled curses under her breath.

"The whites are washed in the kettles, the dyed fabrics in the stream so the color does not fade. The lard is over there in that bucket, use it sparingly the boys need to plumage more." She said gathering several garments under her mother's watchful gaze. "If you have any questions you'll have to ask me, no one else will likely speak your tongue."

"Why do you?" I asked stooping over a basket to sort.

"My mother's father was English, hence all the English names. She even renamed my father with a Christian name, Carlise. And it is he, who likes our minds to expand as far as they can; he has taught us language-among other things," she said still using her glares a form of silent warfare. Her mother was quick to give scowls of equal severity; the two of them were quite amusing. "I'll be right back, I have to go win over my mother or I'll be here all day."

With that, she stalked over to the tree in the distance. I quickly began to gather some wash and dove happily into my task. It was good to be outside and doing something useful. I found myself humming happily as I lifted the boiling wash from the kettle and stung it up to dry. At one point a pouty Rose joined me and pretended to work with exagerated motion, but then she slipped off. When sweat beaded my brow and wisps of hair curled around my face, I knew I could take the heat of the kettles no more.

I swapped places with someone so I could wade in the stream and rise off the darks. I tied up my skirts and waded the knee deep, to where the water was clear. I would rise them, then ring out the garments, before handing them off to someone to hang.

I was so content in my task, I did not really notice those who were around me.

I could do this. I could be a normal salve, as long as I did not have to be around Edward Cullen.

Being so elated must have fogged my mind, for I did not see the rock near my left foot and when I went to move, I tripped and went crashing into the frigid water, face first. Two big hands hulled me up from behind and I turned to see a dirty-blond man with long hair. He was average in looks, but when it came to muscles this man lacked for nothing. His smile was kind, but his eyes feasted upon me in an almost possessive way.

"I'm James and you my dear just took quite a fall," he said in perfect English, looking me over once more. I shivered, I hoped from feeling the spring air on my wet skin. He eyed me again.

I could feel other people's eyes on me as well. Great, I thought bitterly to myself. I hated attention and this was the worst kind.

On the shore a group of women giggled at my tumble, across the shore a booming laughter threatened to drowned them out.

Emmett was seat upon a horse enjoying my fall, as if it was my attempt to be his very own personal jester. Behind him, also horsed, Jasper watched cautiously, worry etched into his face. But luckily, I thought, Edward is not with them.

But my relief was short lived, as I felt a new set of hands swipe around me and pull me up. In an instant, I was seated in front of him on his steed. He had me riding side saddle, my legs resting across his, my backside nestled against the junction between his strong thighs. I wiggled to get comfortable, causing him to grimace. When I tilted my head ever so slightly we were face to face, I could not help but turn away.

He looked at me with those emerald eyes then at the slave and nodded. He too had seen the possessive way that man had gazed at me, and I could tell by the stiffness in his jaw he was struggling to keep control. I had no idea at who he was directing his anger. Most likely he saw it as entirely my fault that the man had stared at me so. Me and my vixen ways.

I heard him mumble something about how he could not leave me alone for even a second, but he said it in Dane so I pretended not to notice.

He then led his horse from the stream and up toward the village, giving the gaggle of woman a silencing glare. The horse trotted briskly on. His one arm wound possessively around my waist, the other held the reigns.

"Do you make it a point to dress so tactlessly?" His silky voice barked into my ear. His lips were so close I could feel the warmth of his breath. I gazed down at the should-have-been-acceptable white frock and saw how my body showed through the drenched fabric. It clung to me and revealed about everything it could.

My face flushed several shades of red then I gasped and covered myself.

He surprised me by laughing in amusement. I turned on the horse and lowered my eyebrows in a deep scowl. But this only provoked him and he laughed even harder. I shoved him and tried to get off, but he pulled me further into his lap.

"Don't be that way," he barked still somewhat laughing. I do not know why but his musical laughter aggravated me even more. He peeled some wet pieces of hair from my face and grabbed my trembling chin, forcing me to look at him.

"You should be glad I finished my ride when I did. You were putting on quite the show for everyone. And I really do not like to flaunt my possessions."

I felt my cheeks heat. He smiled and I glared at the way my body betrayed me. He kissed my forehead and tumbed my cheek. It was not in a passionate sort of way; it just felt like a truths.

Was this his form of apology?

"I suppose I should ask if you are inebriated and recognize fully who I am," I spit at him. He pulled back sharply while visibly cringing. With a raised eyebrow he looked at me. It was a look that said, "are you sure you want to go there with me."

"Woman, do not play with me today," he grumbled still managing to keep his devious crooked smile. He then shook his head as if trying to forget something. "I spoke with Jasper and I'm ready to put what happened aside. Alice is to blame and she is well aware of it. But you too are at fault. I gave you ample warning about listening to my sister, but for some reason unknown to me, you think I give orders just to hear myself speak."

I let my lip jut out in a pout, and then bit it before turning away. He was impossible.

We had passed down the streets of his Viking keep and were now approaching their grand house.

"Now let's get you up to my room and into some dry clothes," he demanded, stopping at the stable to hand over his horse to one of the workers.

He pulled me down and hoisted me over his shoulder like he did the first day we had met. I was wet then too, I mused to myself.

"Speaking of my room…I noticed, when I went to fetch my cloak, that you decided to redecorate," he said coldly walking with long strides. "I'm not really sure if I care for your choice of decor, so you'll have to spend the rest of the day righting it for me," he said smacking his hand down hard on my still sore rear.

"Someone else did it," I hissed through the pain. He let out a wickedly sensual laugh, before ducking into the main hall.

"No lies, woman. You're the only one I know that is foolish enough to touch my things. You're lucky I'm feeling remorseful for your previous beating or you'd be getting another," he scoffed heading down his hall and to the all too familiar door.

He tossed me on the bed and looked around his hands on his hips. It was pretty bad, the floor was covered in his belongings. Even I frowned at the mess.

"No, woman, this will never do! You are going to be very busy tonight," he growled, looking from me to his now cluttered floor. He had taken on an almost playful nature, as if the fact that I had the nerve to wreak his room amused him.

"Get those off while I'll look for something else. I'll be dressing you for now on, since you lack taste."

I lack taste? Was it not his sisters that dressed me the past two days?

"Strip," he ordered going over to a chest and flinging it open and sorting through it.

I watched as he pulled out gray dress with an embroidered hem. It was simple, but at the same time it did not look like the garment of a slave. He looked at me and his face hardened.

"I said UNDRESS. Thor's teeth Bella, you require patience no man on this earth has! You don't do a single thing you're asked until threatened," he yelled. I didn't flinch perhaps I was becoming immune to brutish behavior.

That could be a good thing, I thought to myself.

He stalked over to me, with a determined look set upon his perfect face, but still I did not back down.

"Lift your arms, woman," he said with an exasperated sigh. For some reason I complied and he had the wet dress off in one tug. He then tossed the gray one over my head, yanked it straight, then smoothed it over my body. It had been so long since someone had dressed me that I felt like I was four years of age all over again.

"Now turn around so I can fasten it," he commanded in his silky tone. Again I complied.

He trailed a finger up my bare back, igniting all the goosebumps once again. Then he set to work. His quick fingers link the clasps and finished me up with a stinging swat to my rear. My hands went to rub out the rekindled burningand I jumped around to face him.

He laughed once again.

I looked at him and decided to use his good mood to ask for things, things that I had been lacking.

"Would it be possible to obtain underclothing?" I asked looking at my hands, then peeking up to gage his reaction. At this Edward frowned.

"Are you asking me Bella? For if you are, you best look at me!" He commanded in a hard voice. I had to muster all my courage to look at him now. I opened my mouth to voice my request again, but he cut me off.

"You are a bed slave, a thrall, you have no need for more clothing than you already are wearing," he stated firmly. I looked at him amazed by how fast his moods changed. The words stung but I knew why he had said them. He wished to remind me of my place. Apparently our truths did not involve a change in status for me.

"Clean this up. I have someone else who needs my attention or I would stay and supervise. I'll be back to fetch you for dinner and I want it just as it was before it saw your temper. Understand?" he asked in a firm voice as his piercing stare met mine.

I was going to answer him, but he left abruptly closing the door behind him like he always did. I knelled down and began to pick things off the floor. Quills. Parchment. Small jars of ink. But then, the door swung back open and he poked his head in.

"And Bella?" he asked gaining my full attention.

"It would be most helpful if you behaved from now on and kept out of trouble. A bed slave is to be a most insignificant part of one's day, pleasurable but insignificant. And youhappen to be taking a great amount of my time. I understand you are an undisciplined Christian woman, with little knowledge on how to please a man, but still. I do have other responsibilities," he remarked evenly, raising his eyebrows.

And then the door closed once more, too fast this time. For if he would have stood there for a moment more, the ink well would have smashed against his thick skull instead of on the back of his door.

I watched the black ink trickle down the door frameand make a dark puddle at the bottom of the threshold. I smiled as I fantasized about him slipping. But my smile faded when I realized that, in the end, I would clean that up as well, the undisciplined Christian woman that I was.


Did I tell you how much I love your reviews?

Oh and if you tell me what you want to see (within reason) in future chapters I will try my best to weave it in.

Andi