Chapter 10

Chris

It had been days since the outing with Matthew and I still found myself thinking over what had transpired. Sometimes I lost myself so completely that a whimper escaped me before I realized it. The ride back had been rather nice, his arms had circled my waist, and held me close as his breath ghosted in my ear and made me shiver, as no one had ever made me shiver before. I had hesitantly slid my hands over his thighs; finding myself enthralled with how the simple touch made him tremble.

When the house was visible from the top of the hill Matthew had dismounted and grabbed the reigns, leading the horse and I back to the barn and then helping me dismount. Some time during his walk, something had changed; his demeanor towards me was formal again and he refused to meet my eyes. I wanted to ask what had happened and had even opened my mouth to do so, but we had been interrupted by Katie Lea; her voice ringing through the barn and frightening the poor horse we had ridden. I had yelped as it reared and for a moment Matthew wrapped his arms back around me and pulled me close before releasing me and tending to the animal. Upon further thought, I realized that Matthew was merely pulling me out of the way of Willow's hooves and not holding me close because of my fear.

The rest of the day I spent in my study trying to drone out the sound of Katie Lea's voice as she circled the room spouting off about the ball she wanted to throw. I had irritably snapped at her that I did not care what she did as long as it didn't bring shame upon our name or our home, although I knew with my dalliances, it would be I who had the greatest chance of ruining the Irvine name, should it ever be known where my desires truly lay—in that shameful, forbidden place that I couldn't escape.

She was running around making plans now about the damned ball, and I cringed to think of all those parasites filling my home, touching, perhaps breaking my things, although many of my own possessions were slowly being replaced by things Lady Katherine felt suited the manor better. Well, at least I had Matthew, or did I? Of course I did not have him, not the way I truly desired. I wished to have him.

But now I feared that what we had done as the horse stood nibbling at the windy grass--as much as it meant to me--had possibly ruined anything we could have ever had. Perhaps there was nothing there anyway, only a fools hope of a forbidden romance, that could have become a blossom of love in this desolate life that has seemed to envelope me.

With a sigh I swung my feet over the edge of my bed and went to the window, the floor icy against my bare feet. My ankle was a bit stiff, still wrapped, but it was no longer bothersome. There were other things that plagued me and so much so, that I had feigned being ill this morn just so I could have a reasonable excuse to stay holed up, by myself. I pressed my hand to the glass and looked out over my estate, over the rolling hills Matt and I had ridden over. I closed my eyes, and felt the soft sun rays against my skin, the breeze fluttering my hair. What have I done? The purchase of this man had surely been my undoing. The things I desired had changed from pure lust, to yearning for that man's heart, and that he would hold mine just the same.

I fear my emotions have long ago ran away with me, and my intentions will never be met. Even if he was to warm to me, to one day truly return my affections, well I am a married man, and our society hangs men such as I. Sometimes, I think I can feel the rope, already burning against my throat, choking.

I sighed as my sight swept over the green hills once more, over the orchard, to where I noticed Matthew, reclining under a majestic old tree. I could not make him out in detail, but in my mind I imaginedthe sun filtering through the golden-green leaves and dappling his olive-tan face with light. I smiled a little, but if felt entirely sad. His hair was down, I could see it lying on his shoulders and for the briefest moment I fancied that I could feel the silken locks against my face. I shook my head and moved away from the window, pushing all the errant thoughts to the back of my mind and moving over towards the wardrobe.

I had sent Christian and Adam to the local farmers market to do the running for Katie Lea so I just chose a plain linen shirt and slipped it over my head, the satiny fabric whispered against my skin and with wry smile I pictured walking out and joining Matthew under his tree, lounging like I was nothing more than a servant ducking my duties. Of course that thought was chased away by the fact that Matthew would probably get up and leave; his honeyed voice silent as he hurried away.

I pulled my hair back from my face and secured it in a bundle at the nape of my neck then padded out into the hallway, passing Darla as she hurried on some mission that I'm sure Katie Lea put her too to keep her away from Matthew or whatever male help Kaite Lea thought she was sneaking around with on her free time, as though it were business of my wife anyway.

The kitchen was deserted so I nosed around and found a loaf of bread, still warm, on the counter. I pulled off a hunk of it and seated myself at the table and chewed thoughtfully on it as I tried to sort things out in my mind. As I thought over these things, the back door slammed, and Jezebel crumpled at the table. She pulled her mop cap from her head and dabbed at her eyes with it, as tears streaked her face.

"Jezebel? What is the meaning of this?" I asked, moving closer to her. She sniffled and blew her nose onto her cap.

"Oh, 'tis nothin' m'lord."

I watched her face, noting it was white as lace, and that her hands trembled. One of them went to her lips. She closed her eyes and swallowed hard, then just sat still, as though waiting for some feeling to pass.

"My dear, are you ill?"

Her eyes fluttered open and she quickly got to her feet. She dabbed at her eyes one last time, and put her cap back on, wet and splotchy with her tears.

"Nay m'lord."

She spoke weakly, and quickly went to the stove.

"You ain't taken breakfast yet m'lord. What would ye like?"

I got up from my seat and gently took the iron pan from her shaking hands.

"Jezebel, you are ill. Have the day to yourself and lay down--"

She pulled her hands from mine quickly, fearfully, as though my touch had burned her.

"M'lord, please! T'will feel better once the morn' wears on." Her voice was almost a shriek as she reached for the utensil in my hand. I held it back from her. "Lord Irvine sir, Lady Katherine 'as given me orders to go 'bout with me work..." With a tearful sigh, she rubbed at her cheek. I moved her hair aside, and was furious to see her pale face printed with purple. Her eyes met mine and locked for a moment, they were tired and red from her crying.

"Miss Piper, did Lady Katherine?" I trailed off as she took her cap once more from her head and dabbed at her eyes; silvery tracks crawling down her cheeks and staining the collar of her uniform. She nodded, and dropped her eyes; her hair once more curtaining her face from view.

"She says I ain't workin' as hard as the otherns and that I ain't s'ard to replace with some'ne else. But y'see m'lord I've been ill these past few morns.....more 'n likely some bug wots been past about...an' I slept late today by mistake." She stopped and her shoulders trembled as a soft sob escaped her lips. "I guess t'was all fault of me own...forgive me sir."

My blood started to slowly heat, I have never treated my servants as such--other than Matthew yet it wasn't as if I left horrible marks on him a voice in the back of my head piped up—besides, Matthew was a brazen stallion, defiant and strong willed, not a small, meek, woman who had never shown me a bit of trouble in all the years she had been in my household. I brushed the stray thought away and patted her on her back.

"Go and take the day off, and if anyone dares question you about it, you send them to me."

Her eyes welled with tears and she hugged me tight before dashing out the door and across the yard, her skirt trailing behind her. Glowering I started through the house, intent on finding my dear wife and taking her to task for what she had done to my poor cook.

I came upon her in the library, where she sat boredly in a horrid looking chair--she'd replaced my favorite with one she fancied better, and it was awful. Her presence did not make it any more appealing. She flipped pages, and yawned. Without looking up, she spoke, recognizing the sound of my shoes against the marble.

"Christopher, I want to go in town tonight. I simply cannot take another dull evening with a book on my knee...and a cold bed." With her last barb, she glanced up from her pages, her dark eyes sharp and cold like hard fangs of ice. I met her stony gaze with my own. Her words had only made me angrier, yet when her eyes pierced mine it was a struggle to not glance at my toes. It was just her way, to make everyone feel as though they were merely inches tall, and ready to be ground to powder under her heel. I squared my shoulders, and started in, not bothering to give her an answer to her demand.

"Katherine, dearest..." Her name in my mouth felt as a thorn, and tasted like bile. "Suppose you explain to me, why my dear cook is in tears, with marks upon her cheek? I have never had a harsh word with her, she has always been good and faithful in her service, and I have said to you not once, but many times over, that I am to handle such affairs. You are not to lay a hand on any of those in my employ. If there is a concern, it is to be brought before the man of this estate!"

"Man of the estate?" She glanced me up and down, and scoffed. "I do not see one."

The need to look down, hurt by her words, was almost overwhelming but somehow I managed to keep my eyes on her face; my lips curled slightly downwards.

"Just because you do not see one does not mean that one does not reside here."

She quirked her eyebrows at me and made a rather uneffeminate sounding noise.

"If there is a man on this estate he resides in your stables, or perhaps in the servants quarters."

My hands clenched at my sides and my response was growled.

"Lady Katherine, you are not to lay a hand on my help again, in fact they are not to report to you but to me. They have been given their orders." I turned on my heel and stormed from the room; ignoring the small twinges of pain that were flaring in my ankle with each angered step. I heard a loud 'slap' sound as most likely her book went flying and bouncing from the wall. That was followed by one of her trademark shrieks, that only got quieter when I was downstairs, propping my ankle on my sofa. At least she had not hauled that out as of yet. It's time in my possession was most likely numbered, however, seeing as how she seemed to dislike everything I owned. I plucked up one of the gold and olive embroidered pillows and hugged it to my chest. A smile half-curved my lips as I entertained the thought of arsenic, and tea, and Lady Katherine's tea cup. I laughed into the pillow, although as much as I loathed her, that plan would never come to fruition. But at least it was an entertaining notion.

I had started to drift around the edges of sleep, as I listened to the sounds of Darla moving and messing about the kitchen, sometimes muttering to herself or humming a snippet of some song or another. The soft sound of her voice was lulling me to sleep, but it was not long before it was replaced by a less pleasant one: the wife.

I sensed her presence before I heard her. I opened my eyes, knowing I was being stared down, and saw Katie standing at the end of the sofa, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, and her lips disappeared into a thin, angry line.

"Christopher, I said earlier in the library that I wanted to go out tonight. Did you not hear me?" She snipped. I yawned.

"How could I not hear you, love, as much as you shriek?" I smirked. Her mouth dropped into an 'O' of shock and offense. "But my dear, tonight will not do. Layfield has invited me out for a night at the gentlemans club."

Her face screwed up as if she had sucked on a lemon and I waited paitently for her reply; my small nap having given me a little more patience to deal with her. She opened her mouth to say something but snapped it back closed and stomped away; leaving me smirking on the couch. Of course that wasn't to last, now I had to send word to Layfield about getting together this eve. With a sigh I removed myself from the couch and hurried to my study to pen a quick missive for Copeland to deliver for me. I wasn't too worried about Layfield declining the invite. That man was always up for drinks.

Matt

The day had finally drawn to a close and for that I was glad. It seemed like no matter what I did my thoughts were interrupted and then swayed away by what happened on the ride. It got so bad that Big Paul cuffed me when I drifted off while shoeing one of the horses. Later, he had apologized and invited me to a game of Poker that evening.

As I headed across the yard to the servants quarters I found myself looking forward to it. Of course, I was surprised when I walked in, to see Darla sitting at the table with a large smirk on her lips as she shuffled the cards. Next to her sat Big Paul and then Christian. She motioned me to take a seat then turned her attention back to the cards; grinning as she outlined the game. I quirked my eyebrow, she seemed to know a lot about it for a woman, and it reminded me why I spent some of my free time with her.

The first hand was over quickly, Paul winning it and braying loudly as Christian grumbled and tossed his cards at Darla; accusing her of favoritism. After a while though I was once more lost to my thoughts, away from the game. Christian and Paul had gotten into an argument and Darla was trying to keep them from beating the hell out of one another. Unfortunately that led me to thinking about the ride again, for some reason or another.

"Matthew, wot's dancin' round that 'ead a'yours?" Darla snapped her fingers in front of my face, and I blinked back into the Poker game--or what was left of it which was Christian and Paul arguing. I wondered for a moment why Christian bothered arguing with someone as big as Paul, it seemed futile.

"Hm?" I flinched when Darla slid into my lap.

"Wots' eatin' you love?" She asked, trailing her fingers through my hair. I held her green eyed gaze, a fiery emerald, which morphed into a beautiful dark, shimmering, blue the color of a deep lake, the surface catching the sun. They were no longer her eyes, but the eyes of my Master. No longer did they hold the stern command they had once, but they were soft and pleading with me. His lips softly touched mine, but then they weren't his lips at all. They were different, but still I knew them. They were Darla's of course. I kissed her back a little, then broke the seal.

"I'm just tired from a long days work, nothing more." I said quickly. She narrowed her eyes at me. I knew she did not believe me, but she was gracious enough to let it go.

"Awright then, me dear." She said softly, and left one last peck before she removed herself from my lap, and stomped over to yell again at Paul and Christian who were toe to toe an bellowing--if one had not been more than a foot towering above the other, they would have also been nose to nose. The scene was almost too amusing.

Darla was no taller than Christian's chest, and yet she was in the middle of the fight as though she was ten times their size. It was as if she was a little dog that no had one bothered to tell was small. Paul picked her up, and daintily sat her to the side, earning himself a squawk of indignation, and I couldn't help it--I laughed. The sound went unheard over their racket and I sat watching the tableau for a couple more minutes before leaving the game. After all, it would have been hours before their yelling ceased and I could always make my excuses to Darla in the morning, if she even remembered I was there.

The cool night air felt good across my face, and once more my master's eyes danced in my vision; half lidded and hazy with pleasure, his perfect lips parted in an 'o' as he moaned. I stopped and shook my head, feeling as if I had given more credence than was necessary to what had happened.

But admit it, you fancied the feel of him wrapped around you. You love the sounds that dripped from his lips as you plunged into him.

As much as I wanted to call the small voice a liar it was true. I had craved that contact, and I craved it still even though I was doing everything I could to stay away from him. Damn that man to the deepest parts of hell! He has wrought changes in me that I never before had even contemplated. I should have been thinking about the soft curves of Jezebel or Darla, or any number of the maids that run amok in Christopher's home. Yet, all I can think about his him--his hands on me, his lips--branding me in ways that would bring us both hellfire and damnation. Then, as if some strange specter haunted me, he was there.

I took a step back, alarmed, and blinked. I was convinced my eyes had deceived me. No, it was Duke Irvine. He was fiddling with the door to my quarters, and cursing loudly--the words slurred and his cultured, almost prissy, way of speaking had turned into the harsh accent of plain English folk, something that would have undoubtedly made the Duke cringe, if he were to realize. I came upon him, and gently moved his hands from the door.

"Sire, you've came to the wrong door."

He was unsteady on his feet, wobbling, and I didn't like that what with his ankle already injured, and as sauced as he was he probably didn't even feel the pain of it now. If I sent him off across the yard towards the shadow of the great, sleeping, house I feared he wouldn't make it there before collapsing from his drunkeness. I wondered why Adam had not made sure he was inside safely, and it angered me that he had been abandoned in such a state. As if to prove my point, Christopher made some sound that was like both laughing and crying, and yet neither, and pitched forwards.

I caught him under his arms luckily, and decided on simply carrying him towards the house as though he was my bride. He was babbling on about something, but what it was couldn't be made out, other than the phrase 'me cunt of a woif' which he blared out more than once.

I got him to the house, and fought with the door a bit, then got him inside. I carried him to the parlor, and noticed he'd gone quiet. When I laid him on the settee--it was ugly, and if I remembered right, Katherine had chosen it--I found why he'd stopped murmuring. Whatever he had drunk with Layfield and the others had finally claimed him, and he was breathing softly, his eyes closed in a deep sleep. Part of me worried that he'd fall off of the settee, but I knew that I couldn't stay in there with him. It would be a fine sight for the rest of the household to wander in on upon the morn. But the longer I stood there I knew that I wasn't going to be able to walk away.

With a grumbled curse that really wasn't a curse at all, I sat down on the floor and leaned back against the settee, trying to get as comfortable as I could under the circumstances. I was about to drift off to sleep when I felt fingers trailing through my hair and I tilted my head back to see Duke Irvine staring at my hair as if he'd never seen it before in his life. I reached back and took out the leather cord that kept it secured, and let it fall over my shoulders. He just stopped and stared at me, confusion on his face.

"Wots this 'ere?" The words were barely audible due to the drink but I just shook my head and placed his hand back in my hair; hating myself for the way it made me feel. Hesitantly, he started to comb in fingers through it again and I sighed, the feeling relaxing me and making my eyes drift closed.

Chris

I woke up slowly, a smile spreading across my face. I felt soft, curly, strands against my skin and pulled my sleepy fingers through them, letting them slip like threads of silk. When I opened my eyes, I saw Matt seated on the floor, leaning against the settee, snoring softly. It was a wonder how he'd been able to sleep like that. When I sat up my back was stiff. But, we had been raised differently, and we lived differently. I was used to feather beds, silk sheets, and finery, and he used to things less comforting. I took pity on him, although he would have most likely been disapproving of it. I stroked his hair again, despite knowing my wife or help could be in at any moment.

Right now, however, I wasn't worried about such things. I felt dreadful, my head pounded from the night before. I remembered the boisterous sounds of men all around, the thick smoke and hearty laughter, and Layfield, Regal, McMahon, shoving pints in front of me all night. I barely remembered any of it, and just hoped I had not done anything too unbecoming. I knew that drunkenness was not so becoming, but I reasoned I was allotted my share of ale and whisky—seeing as I had married a vulture. I reminded myself again that she could be coming downstairs at any moment, and also added to that thought that it would do me well not to sleep on this dratted furniture of hers again.

Matthew did not move as my hand continued to wander over his silken mane, and that gave me a bit of courage. I put aside my thoughts of be caught, and moved so that my legs fell on either side of him, his shoulders between my knees, and I grasped the muscles firmly and kneaded them, knowing that he was going to be in stiff and sore from sleeping sitting like that. He groaned—a sound sleep logged and husky--as my fingers moved and beneath his simple tunic, I could feel the warmth of his flesh, and the twinges of his muscles. Had he been more awake I have no doubt that he would have moved away from me, his brown eyes spitting fire as hateful epitaphs rained down from his lips. Instead, he sighed and rolled his head to the side, revealing the bend at his shoulder and base of his neck.

I moved his hair a little, enjoying the scent of him, mingling delicately with earthy, horsey smells against my nose, and before I could think better of it, I pressed a soft kiss to his neck, where I could feel the sluggish throb of blood beneath. A shiver coursed through him as my lips sensuously met his skin—I could feel it and it excited me--I sighed. My mind was surely still clouded from liquor, because the tip of my tongue flicked out against his skin, tasting as my lips continued to caress slowy up the strong, thick, column of his neck.

A throaty moan vibrated in the back of Matthew's throat. I bit down on his neck just a bit, then laved the mark with my tongue, smirking when Matthew startled and whimpered. He whirled around quickly and stared at me, his mouth open in surprise, his breathes almost panting.

"M'lord!"

He practically yelped as he got to his feet and stared at me, his chocolate eyes burning as they drifted over my face. The pounding in my head intensified and I dropped the gaze, my eyes landing on the visible protrusion in his trousers and my breathing started to quicken. In the back of my mind I knew that nothing could happen here, not when my darling wife could happen upon us, or any number of my staff. With great effort I tore my gaze away and brought my eyes back up; unable to stop the lopsided smile the blossomed when Matthew's face colored a lovely shade of red.

Our awkward spot was broken by the sounds of the back door slamming, and familiar voices chatting in the kitchen. I got to my feet and offered Matthew an apology for my actions that both of us knew was a lot less than heartfelt. Darla scurried in to ask a question of me, and lay a kiss to Matthews' cheek, and then she was off to the kitchen again.

"Matthew, thank you for--" I began, wishing sincerely to thank him for sitting with me, but another harsher slam of a door upstairs made us both cringe, and my words forgot themselves.

I knew that slamming door as I sort of alarm, akin to the crow of a rooster in the early morning but far more dreadful. It meant Katie had awoken, and so she was. She swooped down the stairs, her face already set in a cold expression, and I wondered if her face always stayed that way, even when she slept. As she reached the bottom of the stairs, she put on a pleasant, even warm, smile which I knew as a sham.

"My dear husband." She said, her voice laced sickishly sweet. "And Matthew."

She was not even discrete in letting her eyes roam over Matthew, and he was clearly annoyed with her blatant appraisal, as was I. A flame of jealousy rose in my chest, and I shifted from foot to foot, wishing I could do more, such as slap that ridiculous lustful leer from her face. Her Uncle had surely forgotten to raise her a lady, for she was not one. Her gaze came to rest hotly at one point on Matthews body, and Matthew clasped his hands in front of him to shield what was stretching the front of his breeches. He glared at her.

"Katherine." I snipped at her, and she pressed her lips into a thin line, before speaking again.

"Oh, I'm sorry dear Christopher. It's just that I've never seen such sights before." She glanced down below my waist, and snorted.

I opened my mouth to say something else, I felt a fool that she would dare say such a thing to me, and being in front of Matthew, made if even worse to my mind. But before I could retort to her, she pushed past both I and Matthew, and disappeared into the kitchen where she would most likely find something wrong with the breakfast being made. I turned towards Matthew, as I ground my teeth, thoroughly despising that woman. The audacity of that woman! To insult me in front of my help--in front of the one that I find myself actually caring about his opinions?

Matthew began to speak, but I pulled him close and ravished his mouth, thrusting my tongue deep into the moist cavern and swirling about as if it were my own. My lungs were begging for air when I broke the kiss, panting and pushing some of my sleep tousled hair from my face; my body burning and suffering from the same predicament that Matthew's body was still experiencing in the nether regions.

The sound of heels against the marble flooring prompted me to turn from Matthew, and face the window; dismissing him coldly to save him from having to go through anything more. I heard Matthew mumble something in parting then the back door closed softly.

"Is there something I can help you with my dear?" I asked without turning from the window.

"I want that common house fly of a cook gone! T'is the fourth morn that she's not been at her post at the appointed time." Katie Lea huffed with a stamp of her foot.

"Well my dear, I'm sorry but it seems as if my cook has come down with some sort of bug and has been given the entire week off in order to right her senses. We've already spoke of these things yesterday, love." I finally turned around, my eyes blazing as I stared down my wife. "And I will not have you molesting her while she's recuperating, nor am I going to release her from her position."

The words were heavy handed and growled and I was shivering on the inside as I continued to stare Katie Lea down while I waited for her retort. Instead of a retort, she came closer to me.

"Why didn't you come to bed last night?" She hissed, capturing my eyes with her dark ones. Despite my efforts, I think she could still see the wavering in my eyes. "Or were you in someone elses?" Her words were quick and sharp, like fisted jabs. "You do seem rather willing to defend that--that--alley cat Jezebel at every turn! If you were a proper master, you would not be such a woman when it comes to disciplining your help! But I suppose it's only your nature." She laughed. "And don't dare try and be snappy with me. You may think you can frighten me, but I can see past your sad little defense. You have no real spine, and the spine you do posses..." She flicked her eyes once again, below my waist. "Like other parts of you, is made up of quivering jelly."

My rage flared at her comments. They struck deep, and painfully. I was ready to show her who was a woman, and who needed disciplined, and I was neither. I cocked my hand back, palm open, ready to lay it flat and sharp across her face, and she laughed, and grabbed my wrist, her nails biting, her grip surprisingly strong.

"Go ahead, and hit me love." She smiled sweetly. "I'll just show Uncle the bruise you leave against my cheek." She pouted. "Oh, but he wouldn't like that very well. Neither would my big, surly brother." Her eyes glittered, knowing she had me in a place where I could do nothing. Her smile widened to a wicked grin. "And Christopher..."

The snap of her hand against my face rang through the room, the force of it snapped my head to the side, my eyes wide in shock that she had actually struck me.

"Wipe that shitty little pathetic scowl from your face." She snorted. "Didn't your mother ever tell you it would stick that way?"

She let go of my wrist, and laughed as though the whole interaction had been highly amusing. Her heels clicked as she left the room, and the print of her hand burned shamefully against my cheek. Perhaps she was right, and her fiery palm had branded me; woman.