Chapter Two

Over the years I was bought and sold and learned to keep my tongue and my thoughts to my self if I didn't want to get a lashing. I still have scars showing all over my legs and back from before I learned the value of silence. And I, like every other slave around that had gained some sort of common sense, had no wish to add more.

Sixteen years later…

"Get a move on it you cow! Stop slacking and stir that gravy before it burns on the bottom!" Donned in a black and not quite white dress and apron that every other member of the kitchen staff wore, the decidedly thin girl the insult had been aimed at expertly ducked Cooks ladle and stirred aforementioned gravy harder.

I heard a nearly silent but telling whoosh of air behind me and danced to the side to avoid the ladle as it slammed down on the counter, all the while keeping up the steady rhythm of kneading the dough with my knuckles. I looked up at Cook who towered over me by several inches.

I dipped my chin in acknowledgment and gave my longest friend a thin but warm smile."The children?" I asked quietly, eyes back on my task.

His eyes softened and he smiled back, "Good, thank you for asking Genevieve. Do you believe you may have some time after clean up to go and visit? Little Leah has been asking for her 'Aunty Gena' all week."

"Of course," was my quiet reply. "How could I deny such a pretty, well mannered girl?" I looked at him side ways and batted my lashes at him in a mock-flirtatious manor.

"Ahh-haa," he said, the hand holding the ladle raised in triumph as if he had gained something of great knowledge. "I was wondering who had been teaching her such things," he explained, eyes twinkling.

I gave him a look that clearly said, 'not me, surly?'Cook just winked at me and moved on while I went back to work, placing a dozen large bread pans in the oven to bake.

Time passed by quickly as I and six others -supervised by Cook, the only one assigned to the kitchen who was free- prepared the evening meal. Soon the maids (only five in number) came sweeping in to carry the dishes out to the elegant (but much less so than the one they used to host dinners at court) dinning room. I was surprised when one of the maids came over and cleared her throat. When I turned and gave her my full attention, she gave the surrounding bustle a once over to make sure no one would see her talking to a Collar before speaking.

"We are short a maid. You are to fill in for her. Come." She gave my flour-covered and liquid-splattered apron and dress a once over, nose wrinkling, "You must change." Short and to the point, something in her voice making it clear she really didn't want to be doing this. With that, she turned and led me over to one of several pantries, handed me a maid's uniform, and pushing me inside. Assuming she (lack of association combined with constant new faces meant it was likely I would never know her name) would watch the door regardless of what she thought of associating with a Collar –women of the commoner classes had to watch each other in certain things no matter how low in station. There were just some things that crossed all borders.

I changed quickly and left the tatty dress I usually wore behind a stack of pickle jars. I stepped out and once again followed the girl over to the table piled precariously with dishes to take out. She handed me a tray of venison and instructed me to balance it on the flat of my palm, level with my head. I complied and continued to follow the girl, this time out into the grand dining room. I had been in there many times before when I was polishing the furniture, so the grandeur of it was completely lost on me as I did my best not to let my balance falter. The last thing I needed was to drop the tray on the polished wood floor, or worse, on one of the Masters or Mistresses. That would get me whipped within an inch of my life to be sure.

I wobbled slightly as I made my way over to the table and gentle set it down between a bowl of mashed potatoes and a basket of worm, golden rolls. I flinched in surprise and almost spilled a cup of wine when I felt a hand on my hip. I froze as the hand slid down my leg, almost like a caress, but more possessive. The two layers of skirt felt way to thin a barrier to have between me and the all too familiar hand.

I dreaded what I would see, but, keeping my face carefully blank, I turned towards the hand's owner anyway as was expected of me. My light blue eyes met with hazel and I had to suppress a shudder of recognition.

Master Braden was home.

"Master," I mumbled through suddenly numb lips, having only the presences of mind to drop my gaze to the floor and give a deep curtsy in response to his attention before bolting for the kitchens. I burst through the door, nearly knocking a bowl of wild rice out of another maid's hand, and ran for the pantry I had changed in. Shedding the maid's uniform, I found my dress and yanked it on, not caring who might walk in. My hands were shaking so violently that it took me three times to do up the buttons. My knees gave way and I collapsed on the floor in a heap, whimpering.

I was so scared right then that I couldn't move a muscle.

Master Braden was back.

That monster was back.

I had to get away, I had to leave. Now that he knew I was still here and hadn't been sold (as was no doubt per his orders), he would send for me and I would have no choose but obey. I had seen what he did to the slaves he took to his bed. The ones that went willingly seemed to make it in tacked, burses, and once a broken bone but still themselves.

Those he forced didn't come back at all. The sight of that sun-kissed face from almost daily outside excursions with that ever-present leer that seemed to be just for me rose up in my minds eye. And his own hazel ones held the look of a wolf when it knew it had cornered its prey. I shook and tried to fold in on myself, giving off a low keen barely loud enough to be heard by my own ears.

I don't know how much time passed before Cook found me, but when he did I was still in a heap on the floor. I couldn't muster the strength of will to command my muscles to stop convulsing never mind the concentration it took to get my feet under me.

"Oh, Genevieve….," He swiped a hand over his face, which had seemed to have aged twenty years in only moments. "I have only just heard." He stooped down with a grunt of effort and got on his knees. "You should not worry yet, he may not send for you tonight," he said as he gathered me up and hugged me to his chest.

I felt frozen, like one wrong move would send me in shattered little pieces across the floor. But that was not why I made no attempt to put distance between us. With my ear against his chest, I could here the steady beat of his heart –reassuring. The exact opposite effect a man's touch usually had with me. Men scare me to death, ever since I was little, but Cook is the only man I remember never being afraid to be around. He was like a father to me from the moment we first met, even though I was beyond the age of needing raising at the point. He kept at it, the stubborn man, until I no longer flinched when he reached towards me, nor refused to meet his eyes when we spoke.

In every house hold I have ever been in service to since I turned twelve there had been someone, some man, who tried to take advantage of me, but here was one that wanted nothing but the best for me; to shelter me from the world, when I was years beyond when I should have been introduced to it. He was truly a God send, though he denied it quit humbly when I had gathered the courage to tell him so.

I have barley managed to keep hold of my virginity all these years. I don't want to loose it now and not to him. I don't remember much of my childhood, the little bit of it I had, but I do remember Mama's opinion on people he found pleasure in the pain of others. She used to say that people like him weren't even human, they were demons. It is an appt description.

The door opened and Daisy, one of the more timid but longer-lasting maids, poked her head in. "Th-th-there you are Gen." My name came out in a shuddery breath and I knew what was coming. "M-m-master Br-Braden has retired to his r-room for the night and wants y-you to join h-him there after a bath."

Her face was bone white and fear clouded her eyes, for me most certainly, but I could see behind that look to a little relieved thought thanking all that was Holy that it wasn't her. I could not bring myself to blame or resent her. In her position, I would have thought the same. Daisy withdrew quickly, leaving us in a heavy, despairing silence. The strength even to shiver had left me and I was simply cold even up against Cook's radiating heat.

I felt like I was slowly cracking apart.

A/N: I hit 1700 words! Yeah! Next stop, 2,000. Also, I will continue to revise my chapters until I hit a new one, then the author's note will be replaced with 12. Next one's next Tuesday the latest. Promise.