Owning Arabella (9 page)

Chapter Sixteen

 

"Ah, there you are, Darth," William Thurmane began saying upon entering the kitchen. "I'm glad to find you still awake." William was more than just Lee's estate manger, he was also Darth's friend. They had grown up as boys together on the estate, with William being two years older. The four boys of William, Robert Drake, Darth, and Darth's younger brother Beau had formed a mischievous group in their younger years. Upon becoming the Earl at the young age of fifteen, Darth had always insisted that his friend William continue to call him by his given name, unless they were in officious company.

Darth stalled to give Arabella a few moments to collect herself, even as he saw William noticing the legs sticking out by his side. "I never ate this evening and thought I would wash up and get some bread and cheese. Do you want some, William?" Darth asked calmly.

William's thin black eyebrow was arched in a question as Chicery who followed behind him said, "Please allow me, Sir, and some hot tea. The water is already hot, so if you do not mind sitting here at the kitchen table, I will have something for you to eat, quick as a whip."

"Ah, yes," William muttered, coming to stand behind one of the oak kitchen chairs.

Darth felt Arabella lifting her cheek from his bare back and he hoped that he had given her enough time. But it was a mute point because Chicery had discovered her, having come over to the counter to retrieve some plates.

"Oh, Miss Arabella I did not see you there! Master William, this is the angel I told you about earlier. An angel of mercy she is! Helping all those people and the doctor even said we would have lost little Billy McFarden if not for her quick help."

Darth caught a glimpse of William's highly amused expression, turning to amazement, then to admiration, as Darth helped Arabella down from the counter to set her in front of him, facing William. "Miss Arabella Ormonde, please meet, William Thurmane, Lee's estate manager," Darth said.

Darth cautioned William with his gaze to asked no question's of Arabella and he saw that his friend took the meaning well, as he only bowed slightly saying, "Miss Ormonde, it is my pleasure."

Arabella for her part, pressed her spine further into his chest appearing disconcerted, but she managed a small smile as she acknowledged William. "Mr. Thurmane, it is my pleasure also."

William grinned broadly, glancing at Darth, with a look of approval in his gray eyes. Darth shrugged off William's obvious amusement with a wide hand through his still wet hair. William had been after him forever, through the years, to find himself a woman, although how he could assume Arabella was just that, he did not know. Darth was certain they had not been seen together in their intimate play. But it became apparent to him shortly there after, just where Williams conclusion had come from, when he went to pull out a chair for Arabella. He saw the front of the shirt she wore was plainly wet over her breasts and he held the only wet towel. He was extremely glad that Arabella neglected to notice this, as he sought immediately to distract her. "Would you like some bread and cheese also, Arabella?"

Before she could answer, Chicery piped in. "And some nice hot tea," he said, while setting a steaming cup in front of her. "You drink this now, Miss Arabella, and it will cure all your ills. It is my own special blend and you will like a wee bit of milk and sugar in it." Chicery hovered around Arabella as if she were his own special prize, making Darth smile. He'd never seen Chicery take to anyone this way, and his coddling gestures were relaxing Arabella's earlier fluster. It allowed him to turn back to William.

"Did you find anything? Did anyone see anything?" Darth tilted back in his chair with his booted foot placed on the rung of the chair next to his.

"Three of us sought out each one of your people individually, Darth, and no one saw anything out of the ordinary. Of course nearly all of them were in the Grange for the gathering of James Duffy's, new baby boy's christening," William said.

"Oh, no," Arabella murmured.

Darth's hand found Arabella's with a comforting squeeze. "It is a wonder more people were not hurt. Did anyone notice where it started?" Darth asked.

"Duffy said the first anyone noticed it, it was coming out of the back of the Grange. He said it went up so quickly there was hardly anytime, and of course people panicked," William replied.

Darth leaned further backward, crossing his arms over his chest with a deep frown indenting the cleft in his chin. "The back of the Grange?"

"Yes, Darth, mischief to be sure, tis why I sought you out. We looked over the wreckage and it appears fairly certain the fire started outside at the back of the building." William shook his dark head and scooted back his chair. "I've set up watches on embers through the night and best get back." William looked to Chicery and added. "But I will just grab a bit of this bread and cheese to take with me."

"William, I will visit the magistrate as early in the morning as possible. This needs to be investigated, even if it might be some children's mischief. We cannot tolerate that, people were hurt," Darth said sitting forward.

"Aye, Darth, my thoughts exactly. Well then, I will see you in the morning." William stood and looked down to Arabella. "We will never be able to thank you, Miss Arabella, for all your help. It has been a pleasure."

William turned to go and Arabella noticed that he was a tall man and from the back he looked very much like Darth, with his dark hair and broad shoulders. Darth seemed lost in thought as she sat quietly nibbling at her bread and cheese, wondering if youngster's had really started the fire. It made sense, children's fascination with fire was renowned, and unfortunately they did not have the true sense to realize how dangerous it could be.

"Would you like some more tea, Miss Arabella?" Chicery asked.

"No thank you," Arabella answered with a smile. "You have been very kind."

"Yes, Chicery," Darth said. "Why don't you go and find your bed now? Mrs. Wellborn can clean up our small mess in the morning,"

Arabella noticed that Darth was rubbing the scar on his temple. "Does your head hurt, Darth?" she asked, watching his attention return fully to her. He seemed to catch himself in the act of rubbing the scar without knowing it and his hand dropped away. She noticed with concern that the gray coloring of his irises was brighter and the corners of his eyes were pinched looking.

"A little," he muttered, appearing to try and brush it off.

"It is more than a little," she admonished. "You need to rest and you need to sleep. Let me try massage, before it takes hold and grows worse. I should give you some poppy syrup for the pain," she stood saying, "Here, let me get you some."

He grasped her wrist stalling her. "No, little dove, no medicine. I would drink myself into oblivion if I wanted that kind of relief."

Arabella thought that was a very curious thing to say and she nearly argued that her herbs could hardly be considered addictive, but Darth was obviously not feeling well and she did not want to upset him with any disagreement. Instead, she wished to help him and to that end, she needed to get him to go to bed and relax. "As you wish, my Lord, but bed is a must."

Darth tried to laugh at Arabella's cosseting, however the starting of the action caused sharp pain to sear his face, bringing with it a clipped involuntary grunt from his throat.

"Now, Darth!"

Arabella girded herself to hold up Darth's weight, praying she could get him into the bed. He was practically withering in agony by the time she did manage to get him there and he just fell onto the mattress on his back. She recognized the first time she'd seen him this way was a mere spell compared to the contortions wracking him now. She tried to quell her raising panic, it was torture to see Darth in so much pain. Should she run and get the poppy syrup to give him? He would not be able to stop her from giving it to him at the moment.

"No," she exclaimed to herself as she lifted Darth's legs onto the bed. She would try everything else first, she must respect his wishes. So she ran to get several cold wet clothes, because she thought that the cold applied to his face had helped last time. When she came back to the bed, he was curled onto his side moaning with his hands clenched in fists over his face. Her heart thudded painfully in her chest as she crawled up onto the bed, taking his shoulders in her hands.

"Please, Darth, lay on your back for me," she entreated. "I know it is hard." She pulled and he moved, until he lay flat on his back and she pulled his hands away from his face, then she quickly applied the cold wet cloth. He was so racked with pain, that one look at his face terrified her. His entire body shook with it, while his hands clenched into the mattress, obviously trying to keep flat on his back.

"Have you ever been to Jamaica, Darth, or one of the Caribbean islands?" It was a silly question and one he could not answer, Arabella chided herself. "You should see the place where I was brought up. It is warm all year round and the water is the most beautiful shade of blue and green. The ocean there is warm all the time just like taking a warm soothing bath. You can swim out to the reefs and dive beneath the water, seeing wonderful exotic fish swimming along the brightly colored coral reefs. They come in all shades of pinks and reds. The sky is so blue you think it never ends when you look up at it."

Arabella rested her temple to Darth's temple, silently asking that he be relived from his pain as her hands kneaded his shoulders and neck. "Before my stepfather, my father owned a sugar cane plantation," she whispered. "And when the cane is fully grown it is like a sea of green, gently flowing in the breeze. People have to be careful, because it is so tall, it is easy to become lost in the fields and walk for days they stretch so far."

Arabella's soft spoken words washed over Darth like a soothing balm. Her rich voice carried him away as her hands worked their magic and his body followed her command, relaxing its tension. A heavy sigh of relief escaped him and he drifted into the welcome oblivion of sleep.

Arabella felt Darth easing into slumber and she gently pulled her hands away from him, swiping at her tears. Very carefully she got up from the bed and removed the wet cloth from his face, then she pulled the coverlet up over him. Darth looked much younger, more relaxed in sleep and she fought the urge to brush back his hair as she would do to Nicholas.

The fact that Darth's suffering affected her so deeply made her realize how much she cared for him. She'd felt Darth's pain as if it were her own and she'd wished that she could take it on herself, to end his suffering. Even now she was not sure that she could cope the next time it happened, but she counseled herself that she had better be prepared, for she was certain it would happen again.

Arabella rubbed at her eyes realizing how tired she was and she tried to tell herself that was why she had gotten so upset. But she knew that was not true, as she looked around the bedchamber, wondering what she should do now.

 

Chapter Seventeen

 

Darth woke slowly, his senses telling him that a warm and soft body curled along his back. It was not something a man who had endured the years of celibacy that he had would miss. Then he recalled the terrible spell of cramping pain that had come on him last evening. He also recalled how quickly that pain had been relieved . . . and by whom. Normally with such a sudden devastating spell, he could expect to lie in agony for hours, yet Arabella had relieved him in a short amount of time.

Darth lifted his hand to his scar, touching the raised welt with his fingertips. Then, he followed the line from his forehead to his chin. When he touched his scar this way, it did not feel as bad as it appeared viewing it. It was a wide line, but straight and not jagged. Such a small thing that could change a man's life entirely, just as easily and as quickly as a little dove was changing his life. Not at this precise moment. But with many of them wrapped together in the past several days and those days of darkened bed chambers and imprisoning beautiful naked women were swiftly ending. Reality was forcing its way inside and society was rearing its intrusive head. It was becoming increasingly impossible to ignore his intended selfish depravity. Chicery could not be sent away to forget, for he would not, and William could not be fired so as to not notice what the Earl of Lee was up to. Robert would return soon, and Darth wondered, if he could look any one of them in the eyes and admit he intended, and did keep Arabella as his slave. Could he continue to admit it to sweet Arabella herself?

Nay, his time was running short, nearly gone, and he felt it lay heavy upon him as he turned to Arabella. Perhaps these would be their last moments of intimacy, he thought, looking down on her. He was selfish enough to make it last as long as possible. Today, tonight, tomorrow, time was short . . . and he realized that he was desperate. He could not lose her, he would do anything for that not to happen. Yet how could he keep her against her will and ever expect them to be happy together.

But there were other ways, devious, conniving ways that might not appear as the enslavement they were. If he took her virginity that could be one way to hold her to him. The fact that he had not done it yet was not some grand chivalry on his part. It was more embarrassing than that. When he had first enslaved Arabella to his sexual will, he'd been too afraid to see a look of loathing upon her face. The act of coupling her, face to face, had literally terrified him. So much so that he'd been unable to bring himself to do it.

"But not now," he murmured, now he knew that Arabella would never look at him that way. Now he knew that she could look at him with desire. Incredible, wonderful, desire. The type of thrilling desire a woman had for her man. He could use that . . . and heaven help him, he would. If he must acknowledge Arabella's freedom soon, then he was not going to make it easy for her to leave him. Taking her virginity would be his first step, then finding the stepfather he heard her whisper about last night would be his second step. He would have Arabella in the end, if God gave him a little more time, and he thought righteously, that God did owe him.

When he looked down at Arabella, he saw the hem of the shirt she wore was twisted, revealing one bare rounded hip, which his hand settled over, kneading the soft flesh. His other hand found the braid in her hair, loosening its mahogany colored length as he stroked it out across the pillow. Then the buttons of Arabella's shirt were worked open and the edges pulled back to reveal her naked breasts, tender belly, and soft inviting pussy beneath. He would never tire of seeing her this way, he thought, as his cock thickened at the sight of her nudity.

Arabella was having the most unusual dream. It seemed very real as her body sleepily twisted and stretched beneath sensations that were warm and tantalizing. Low sighs escaped her lips as pleasure expanded in her mind and through her body, making her want to squirm and breathe heavier. She realized, coming more fully awake, that penetrating jolts of pleasure were nipping around her breasts making her want to thrust her nipples upward. Which she did, to find searing heat nibbling at the sensitive budded tips. Her neck arched backward as she moaned and her head moved from side to side beneath the exquisite pleasure. Broad hands moved in long slow strokes up and down her body, warmly bending her shape to their will.

Darth, it was Darth, her honey-drenched mind told her as her body undulated and molded to every place his palms fondled over. His slightly roughened fingertips petted down the insides of her tender thighs spreading them open as his mouth sucked with tiny bites at her nipples, making her gasp. Then she felt his thumb touching the slit of her sex, folding her open, and she jerked.

"Relax, little dove," He whispered huskily raising up to capture her mouth with his strong lips.

Arabella became lost in Darth's kiss as his tongue lapped over her tongue and his fingers played between the lips of her sex with enticing circular motions that made her hips strain upward. She could not stop her hips motion from humping against Darth's hand. She began whimpering into his mouth as her knees raised, so she could push upward, and then suddenly his finger plunged inside of her, making her cried out.

"Your tender bud is throbbing beneath my finger, little dove." Darth's breath was hot against her ear as his finger stroked inside her wetness "That's it, little love, move with me," he whispered, persuading her with his deep hushed voice. And she did, crying out his name as the pressure built to a blinding summit. "Come to me, little dove . . . come to me."

The explosion of feelings, centering beneath Darth's fingers, rocked Arabella in dizzying convulsions that spread rapture through her entire body. Making her shake under the enormity of pleasure it wrought, until she knew that she had died again and she was glad for it.

Arabella felt Darth moving above her as he pressed her legs open wider and she reached up to grasp his shoulders.

"Open to me, sweet little dove."

His voice was a husky rasp and Arabella felt the tip of his manhood push slowly into the place inside her that ached so hotly to be filled. "Oh yes," she breathed, trying instinctively to spread herself open and raise herself upward to meet his probing brand.

Darth steadied himself with a shudder, the way was tight and hot, dragging him deeper into its excruciating pleasure. Still he tensed and held back with superhuman effort, he could feel the barrier inside the moist haven of molten honey that enclosed him. He drew back as Arabella clutched him, trying to keep him from doing so.

"I would take this pain myself if I could, little dove," Darth admitted hoarsely, and then he plunged, ripping forth fully into a searing liquid bliss that swallowed him to the hilt.

Arabella cried out, the pain was such a surprise. There was no where to go, she was filled and impaled upon the bed with her face buried in Darth's bare shoulder. Her legs were spread impossibly wide around Darth's thick muscled thighs and for moments pure panic assaulted her, it was the most vulnerable and exposed position she'd ever been in.

"I will not move unless you guide me." Darth's deep voice was strained and heavy. "Sweet Arabella, I will withdraw if you wish it."

Darth grasped Arabella's satin knee and lifted it higher under his arm on one side. He shifted his angle and thrust as fast as the pounding hooves of a stallion. The moment was fire branded upon his soul, twisted and straining, the pleasure was so exquisite. Spiraling upward to meet his goal, and then in the moment of ultimate discovery he heard. No, he felt. No he lived, Arabella's cry of ecstasy around him, and then he spilled his seed, hot and deep, until there was no more left of him, he was buried so deep, caught on a guttural cry of agonizing fulfillment.

Moments, hours, days later, Darth thought, as his mind returned from the heaven it had been expelled to. His breathing was harsh rasps of air, gulped down into his chest with one tiny coherent thought, not to crush his precious Arabella. So he withdrew and flung himself onto his back, blindly seeking her softness as he pulled her to his side, where she slept the contented sleep of a well-loved woman.

When he woke again sometime later, he kissed Arabella gently on the temple with a smile, wondering where his little dove's thoughts would wander that day. Feeling a measure of certain satisfaction, he got up and covered her snugly, and then he went in search of a bath and clothes. When he entered his dressing chamber, in search of clothes, he began to consider the logistics of his situation. He wanted a bath, but it was too early for Chicery to be up and he did not wish to disturb Arabella's sleep. Yet when she woke, she would want a bath and food. That meant he had no choice but to return to Lee in a few hours. It was still very early, so he decided to forgo his bath until later and settle for another quick wash in the kitchen basin sink.

With that decided, he gathered some clean clothes, then thought to leave Arabella a note, telling her of his intentions. Upon leaving his bed chamber, he shut the door quietly behind him and stood for long moments considering the lock. He finally decided that upon returning in a few hours, he would give Arabella the clothes and this would be the last time he would lock her in. From henceforth, if he wanted her to stay in his bedchamber, he would simply request it. That brought a smile to his lips as he headed down the hallway. He would have enough time to go to the magistrate, to speak to him about the fire before he had to be back.

The people in Lee Hall woke earlier than Darth would have expected. Chicery was already awake and waiting and Arabella had woken upon hearing the door click shut. She found the note brushing her hands over the words with a deep sigh. Darth had written the salutation, "Love, Darth," at the bottom and once she'd seen the words she'd felt tightness in her chest. Could he mean it or was it only a slip, she wondered, laying her head back on the pillow?

She thought that being loved by a man like Darth would have to be the most wonderful thing in the world. But it was all so fragile and new, she did not want anything to harm the feelings growing inside of her. She did trust Darth, and now she was certain of it, and with that certainty, she realized that she needed to tell him about Nicholas. She needed his help and it had already been too long, she could wait no longer. She did not think it would be necessary, but she would beg Darth for his help if she had to. "The very next time I see him, I will tell everything," she declared to herself.