With reflections of his mother floating in and out of his mind through the meal Alexander couldn't make himself eat much at dinner and their was a dull ache in the pit of his stomach as he closed his eyes and sank into the soft fabric of his goose down comforter.

His bed was a thing to be envied as was all of the things his father had given him. It was a big bed, much bigger than most, it was a little less than two feet off the floor and could probably fit him and two of his mates had he ever let them sit on it. Though he couldn't bring himself to care for it much, it was the only bed he had ever known when at home. His father had brought it with him from England, something about first born males, a family heirloom or some type of tradition that ran down the Cambias family line. Alex had thought it was terribly stupid, but it had been very important to his Father so at the age of five he had accepted it graciously.

Now days the stupid thing and its stupid history didn't matter to Alex but not much ever did.

Yawning, Alex threaded his fingers behind his head. He tried to stare at the ceiling and tune the world out but couldn't ignore the tell tale sound of Thomas doing a line at the desk that he'd done his holiday homework at in primary school.

"Alex, you really have to try this," Thomas offered, his congestion apparent as he carried over a small mirror and a mound of thin white powder, but Alex couldn't bring himself to even lift his head to glance at his ignorant friend.

He briefly closed his eyes before addressing his friend's offer, "As I've said before and I will undoubtedly say again: No thank you, Thomas."

"Your loss mate," the Londoner answered, but Alex could hear the underlined hostility in his friend's supposed carefree reply.

Alex shut his eyes even tighter, he could already feel the beginning symptoms of a severe headache wedging it's way behind his eyes.

"How in the hell d'you snort that crap up your aristocratic nose?" asked Conner, he had finally looked up from the book he'd been reading since after dinner.

"Happily," Thomas answered.

Desperate to change the subject and put a stop to the impending argument he was sure was beginning to boil between his two friends, Alex rolled onto one elbow.

"What do you want to do tonight?"

"Haven't a clue," answered Maxwell, taking a long drag on his cigarette and carefully blowing his smoke out the open panel of his Tiffany stain glassed windows. "But I know I don't want to be cooped in here with only y'all for entertainment."

"Well, there isn't exactly a lot going on in that tiny little village either. My God, Alex how do you stand it?" Thomas asked, busy putting away the evidence of his favorite recreational activity.

"There's a bar down there, not exactly a legitimate establishment but not entirely dodgy either."

"Sounds great," Thomas said, sardonically.

"There's going to be girls there. Not exactly Charlie's Angels but not complete coyotes," he said, adding a charming grin. "A couple of pints and you won't even notice the difference."

Alex could feel his friends' skeptical glares, but he let them roll off. He didn't really care what they thought and he was not going to be caged up in his house with the three of them all afternoon.

"Well, what other suggestions might you two geniuses come up with?" Alex asked, lifting a single brow at their silence.

"Then it's settled,"Conner answered, shutting his book and lightly placing it on the corner table beside him. "Tonight we drink."

OoooO

Hannah rubbed the aching muscles of her lower back. Her wrist watch told her that the night was nearing one o'clock and her mind told her that unfortunately she was going to be needed back to work in five hours to do the breakfast trays since Madeline had quit. Groaning, she took the key to the small cabin that she previously shared with the former maid from the pocket of her white apron.

Not caring to lock it since no one ever came this far out to the servants quarters, she had barely shut the door before she'd begun stripping away her dirt and grime stained uniform. Throwing her apron and button down mint dress in the hamper, she sat down to the small vanity nearly naked from the waist up. Only her white bra and brown skirt slip protecting her from the humid Summer night.

Her body was begging for sleep, her muscles pleading for rest, as she turned to the slightly cracked mirror that, besides the two single beds and old bathtub, was the center piece of the tiny cabin. She pulled her hair free of the tight bun she'd worn to work and could feel the dull aching of strain on her scalp. She finger combed her thick locks as she pulled each pin free and placed it into the small porcelain box where she kept her jewelry. Looking into the mirror she proved herself right, her hair was a mess and she looked awful.

"Why can't I have hair like Farrah Facette?" she asked, the empty air of her cramped living space.

Coveting golden locks with winged tips that would never belong to her Hannah turned away from the mirror, having to be content with the thick cinnamon brown mop of her own. Pulling her white linen night dress over her head, she slid out of her slip laying it across a dip on her vanity and began braiding back her hair careful to keep the plait loose.

Fastening her braid with a thin white ribbon she walked the short distance to her bed and slid between the thin white sheets. The night was hot and sticky and she didn't reach for the mustard-brown duvet folded at the end of her bed but pulled the flat sheet over her for habitual comfort anyway.

She'd barely laid her head against her flat pillow when the faint sound of a crying animal brought her sitting back up. She'd been living with Madeline for three months and had heard many different sounds through that short period of time; owls, squirrels, wild dogs. But it was the first time that she'd heard them alone and a stab of fear split through her stomach but she ignored it.

Her sheet fell to her lap as she sat motionless on the bed and continued to listen for the poor animal or person. It sounded like whatever it was, it was in pain, a lot of pain. It probably needed help, someone to foster it, and take care of it.

Letting her feet fall to the well-worn cabin floor, Hannah stood up and lightly pranced to the screen door and opened it a crack as she peeked out. The noise had suddenly and disconcertingly stopped.

Opening her door farther, she listened intently for the animal but could only hear the noisy crickets in the grass. Cautiously, she stepped onto the top step, the unsanded untreated wood digging into her barefeet as she held the door ajar and took the final two steps to the soft wet earth.

Letting go she let it swing shut behind her, but the loud crack still made her jump and temporarily quieted the insects hiding in the post-storm dark.

Unable to think of any other way to call the animal, Hannah whistled as she moved into the wet grass and closer to the large rain drenched hedges that helped fence and hide her home from the traffic of the dirt road.

The night was dark, barely lit by the soft yellow light streaming through the few uncurtained screened windows. Along the narrow dirt road that ran parallel to her cabin, a tall figure staggered from one side to the other, dangerously tittering on the edge of the shallow rain filled trenches. Despite the deep tone of his voice and the awful sound that left him, Hannah assumed he wasn't in pain at all but actually singing or trying desperately to harmonize.

Breathing a sigh at the merely drunk man and the mad thought of menacing ruses and hurt animals Hannah took another step out. He had nearly walked half the distance between them before he finally looked up and realized that she was sharing the road with him.

"Pardon me sir," she called, superstitiously wrapping her dressing gown around her tighter.

Ignoring her, he continued toward her without hesitation.

"Pardon me sir," she addressed more aggressively, "But this is private property."

He was only a few yards away from her when he stopped, but still he was hidden by the shadow of the old trees that canopied the narrow dirt road.

"I'm sorry sir, but I believe you may be lost. This is the Cambias Estate," she stated, taking a step back toward the safety of the large oak tree behind her and moving closer to her home.

"Is it really?" he asked mockingly, stepping out of the shadow and into the soft yellow light. "I had no idea."

Hannah felt her stomach knot as she watched an unmistakable smirk curve the lips of the stranger. Even though it was silly, she suddenly felt quite foolish. Of course he would know whose property he was walking on, it belonged to him.

Alexander Cambias inched toward her, his lips not moving from the lopsided grin they held. His black hair was disheveled, brushed every which way from his fingers or those of someone else and the collar buttons of his shirt had been unfastened and his tie hung unknotted from his neck. He leaned against the tree crossing his arms over his chest.

"I'm sorry Mister Cambias," she said, feeling an irrational stirring of anger in the pit of her stomach. "I thought you were a trespasser."

"I didn't know we had many of those," he said, lifting his dark eyebrows at her.

"We usually don't "

"We?" he asked, titling his head challengingly. "Since, when do I have a sister? And I must admit that it would be a damn shame if you were."

Unable to say anything out of station and for loss of words Hannah stared above his head at an unusual knot in the bark of the tree.

"I only meant that this road is usually taken by the help."

"Is that so?" he asked, his lopsided smile betraying his inebriated state and uncomfortably she could see why so many girls fancied him.

"Where's your mates?" she asked, intentionally looking down the empty road.

"Still in town," he answered, dropping his arms and casually sliding one of his hands into his trouser pocket.

"I suppose they were more lucky than yourself," she said, daring to test the water with her newest employer.

He chuckled lightly, "From a certain point of view."

Again, Hannah felt no need to bite her tongue as she was again left without anything to say.

"Is my father still awake?" he asked, filling the awkward silence.

He took a step forward surprising her but oddly Hannah didn't take a step back. She didn't feel the immediate need for space. His dark eyes looked drowsy but lingered around her mouth and Hannah could see that all of his attention was on her answer.

"Yes, he was."

"Oh," he answered, and again he took another step toward her, his hand steadily against the tree trunk. He smelled like tobacco smoke and alcohol, a usually wholly unpleasant scent, but something lingered just beneath it that kept her from taking another step backward.

"Y'know," he said, pushing himself away from the tree. "You're much different than our other maids Miss Nichols. Much different." And with those words Alexander Cambias the Second went crashing to the ground in front of her.

Squatting beside him, Hannah swore beneath her breath.

OooOooO

Before opening his eyes Alex had thought that it was the pain in his aching head that had roused him but as he continued to grow accustomed to his surroundings the sound of a faint humming caught him by surprise.

Unable to remember what had happened after leaving the bar Alex feared the sight he would open his eyes too. But something about the tone almost compelled him to open them. However, it was the feel of the uncomfortable mattress beneath him that finally made Alex draw back his lids.

He was naked from the waist up. Moving lower he could feel that his trousers were still on and buttoned up, but his belt had been unbuckled.

The single room cabin wasn't instantly recognizable with its quaint kitchenette, small vanity and tiny fireplace that sat opposite the bed he was in. He could see the shirt and tie he'd worn the night before hanging by the fireplace. A mattress was rolled up on an unused cot and set behind the screened door.

The source of the humming was quick to find and came from behind the shower curtain that was drawn around the old tub. Curious, he rolled onto his elbow. He could see the faint lines of a woman's silhouette through the nearly clear plastic, a well developed black shadow.

The curved outline of her hips and the dip of her waist made a well defined profile of her shapely body. She twisted to the side, letting her body get evenly showered, and suddenly she leaned out.

For a moment Alex knew she had caught him watching her but he let out his sigh of relief as he saw the back of her arm, her shoulder and the round curve of her back. For a split second he saw the dark hump of her chignon, messily placed on the top of her head.

Alex felt his eyebrows knit at the shock. He knew that hair. Hell, he knew that body and he knew that voice. It was the maid. How in the hell did he end up in the maid's house?

Suddenly, Alex couldn't stop his body from suffering the first symptoms of arousal. He felt like a voyeur. He felt dirty. He shouldn't have been watching her that way. He had no right.

'But you didn't even see anything.'

"That doesn't justify a thing," he rebutted.

The temptation to watch the Maid was disturbingly strong and Alex quietly rolled over to stare out the screened window. The sun was going to break dawn soon, even if the storm clouds never moved, he could tell by the changing sky of morning.

The squeak of a tap handle turning and the flowing of water ceasing was nearly simultaneous. Alex shut his eyes tight. He should've tried to sneak out, that would have been the logical choice. The safe choice.

He could hear her moving around the small quarters. Her feet slapping softly against the wood paneled floor as she grabbed her clothes. He assumed she was putting them on and as he heard a towel hit the side of the door, he knew she had changed.

She didn't come close to him, climb back in bed to spoon or bend over and give him a kiss good bye as had happened to him so many times before with the few one night stands he'd had. She simply just opened the door and left without a word or any indication that he had been sleeping there.

Alex waited until he was confident that she had reached the main house before he let his socked feet fall to the floor.

What had he done?

Looking out through the screen of the open entry, Alex cursed lightly under his breath. He needed to go home.

TBC…