Chapter 5

I woke from a deep sleep tangled in my small nest of blankets in the window seat feeling more rested than I had in the last week. My dreams had dissolved from my usual nightmares to fantasies about a dark, handsome viscount. His deep voice was blissfully soothing in my visions, his hands warm on my skin...

My eyes whipped open, unwilling to dwell on a feeling I'd never have. I focused on the tightness in my back, the growl of my belly, to keep me in the present.

Master had been in a good mood over the week so I was in little pain. Only a couple of smacks here and there to be sure I held my posture before he demanded his release.

Richard also seemed to be in a decent mood, which had me worried. I found myself, for the first time in three years, actually concerned about what Master was planning outside of his bedroom. I didn't know why it bothered me now. Maybe because I'd seen the faces of the men Master was hurting. Men other than me, even if it was a different kind of hurt.

Of course, they were also nobles, so they could help themselves—they'd mentioned a Liam and Donnelly working out a plan to stop my master. Although, as far as I knew, the two Sterling lords could be just as horrific as Master, yet I hoped they weren't; I imagined not. Although, I could certainly see the one named Ashton being that way. Even thinking about his sharp tone and deep voice made me cringe. I just had to focus on his beautiful face instead.

"What in the Gods name are you talking about?" Master's voice jolted me to alertness.

I sat up to see Master dressing, fixing his tie in front of his large mirror. Richard was lounging on the couch by the fireplace. I instantly wondered just how long I'd slept. The steward was never here in the morning. In fact, he rarely came up to Master's bedroom.

The hairs on the back of my neck stood up. Something was going on.

"They've diverted the shipment. Lee said he wasn't informed of the change in plans until late last night. Rowland is headed north today to meet it at the Markham port."

"Fucking hell. Send out our best shooter."

I caught my breath. He was going to kill Count Sterling?

Richard narrowed his eyes. "Do you think that's wise?"

However, Master was shaking his head. "No, no, have them lame his horse, slow him down. Make sure one of our carriages 'happens by' to offer our hospitality and bring him here to rest. That should give us enough time to get a crew up to Markham to intercept the load."

Richard nodded, and I sighed. At least, the count wouldn't be hurt.

"Perhaps we should let this shipment alone," Richard suggested.

"We can't. Part of that cargo is already promised to the Earl of Huxton and Baroness DeLyle."

"Of course," the steward conceded.

"Therefore, we cannot allow Sterling to hinder our acquisition of this last load. Get our best marksman out there 'hunting.' We need to be ready to offer our best hospitality when he arrives."

"Of course, sir," Richard agreed as he rose.

"But," Master stopped him, "just in case, take this to the study."

Richard was apparently studying whatever Master had handed him.

"It's a special mixture for emergencies."

Richard shifted on the couch, his nose turning up at the smell of whatever Master had handed him. "It smells like... hemlock."

Hemlock? Why would he want that—

I stiffened in my blankets. He would poison Count Sterling, if the man gave him a reason to.

"It is." I could practically see Master's grin. "The brandy will mask the scent and taste well enough. I don't want to take any chances."

"Killing the count is risky," Richard stated, although I noticed he didn't try to dissuade my master from it.

"If he persists in trying to implicate me, then he deserves it. The bastard. Plus, the hemlock will make it look like he's fallen ill, delusional first, before sending him into convulsions and seizures. No one will realize it was poison."

They were silent for several minutes.

"Kye!" I heard my name called and was instantly on my feet.

I slipped into position—my feet apart, hands clasped behind my back—just behind my master as he adjusted his clothes in the mirror, waiting on instruction.

He turned, walking slowly around me, sliding his hand down the welts healing on my back. I didn't move, didn't hardly breathe. He stopped in front of me and patted my cheek. "Good boy, my pet. You have learned so well."

He turned toward the door. "We'll be having a visitor this evening. I'd like you to join me in the study later. I think your presence will make for a more interesting evening."

He meant an uncomfortable one for the count, I was sure. I nodded. "Yes, sir."

****

After Master left, I laid out my course brown cotton shirt and dark brown pants to dress in after my bath. Slipping into the heated water, I allowed myself a moment of respite before washing away Master's previous night's expenditures.

I scrubbed, easing stiff muscles. I washed my long silky hair as well before ducking under the water. Holding my breath, I let the water swish the blond tendrils around in the water, floating around my face serenely.

It reminded me of swimming in the lake with Tareth. And for just a few moments, I felt connected to him again. I could hear his cajoling laughter, see the smile on his face.

I heard knocking on the door, and I jumped from the water, splashing it over the edge. I scrambled for a towel to dry quickly and ended up slipping on the tile floor. I cursed under my breath as pain jolted up my elbow.

The knocking became banging, followed by shouts of my name intermixed with several descriptive expletives. I managed to slip my pants on, then decided to just grab the robe as I headed for the door.

"Damn it, Kye! I'm going to take it back to the kitchen, and you can fucking starve this morning!"

No! I didn't want to feel the hunger pangs any stronger in my belly than they often were. I raced over to the door and threw it open.

"You're fucking luck—" Samuel stopped his rant abruptly. His widening eyes had me glancing down, to realize I hadn't tied the robe. He was staring at my heaving chest, probably noting how thin I really was. Hell, he could probably have counted my fucking ribs.

I yanked the robe closed, summoning the strength to glare at him as I grabbed the tray from his hands. He stared at me stunned, probably not used to my irritation. I slammed the door in his face before he could say anything else.

****

I could barely eat my food today. My stomach was in knots. For some reason, I was worried for the count, for both of them. I'm not sure why. They meant nothing to me. And if Master's plan succeeded, then my master would be happy and in a good mood.

Which equaled less pain for me. So why should it bother me?

So what if one man got poisoned so I didn't have to hurt? It wasn't like I could do anything to stop it anyway. Why did it matter?

Because it did.

I didn't want anyone to get hurt. Even if I barely knew them. Even if they'd called me a whore. Even if they hated me for what I'd become—an amorato, my master's toy, his pet.

I slipped out onto the balcony, the sun warming my face as I tilted it up. I wished for the millionth time I had something to do, other than be alone with my thoughts.

Especially today of all days.

I sank to the cool stone in the corner of the balcony, secure in its shadows, leaning my head against the thick stone balustrades. I stared blankly out over the back of the estate as the breeze ruffled my wispy strands, blowing them across my face.

I didn't even bother to push them away.

The ambient chatter from servants milling about, the cawing of a distant crow, the clomp of horse hooves drawing a wagon—all the sounds I'd come to know as the workings of Master's estate. The reminders of a world outside of my own purgatory.

I vaguely wondered what the other count was doing while his brother was heading into Master's ambush. Lord dark and broody. Would Master send someone after Lord Ashton too?

"... it's almost done."

I startled at the voice. It was close, and I hadn't realized anyone was so near. I must have drifted off because I shifted my head to see Alisha and Samuel standing in the shadows next to the wall, practically under me.

"Are you sure I can come with you?" Alisha's small voice asked, practically pleading.

"Of course." I watched Samuel brush his hand over Alisha's cheek and wished someone would touch me like that. "I love you. I know Lord Rowland would allow me to bring you home with me."

Home with him?

I practically laughed out loud at the irony. Why should I be surprised that the counts had a spy here when my master had one at their estate too? I suppose that explained Samuel's intense dislike for me, seeing me as his enemy's lover.

"How much longer?" Alisha whispered.

"A day or two. Lord Rowland and Lord Ashton have plans to trap the marquis. Then he'll be arrested," Samuel stated. "And we can get out of here. I promise. Barrett's a miserly bastard."

"Except when it comes to himself." Alisha brushed back a wisp of auburn curls. "He and his eat duck and lamb and cakes and fruit pies, while we have rabbit stew and meat pies... I'm sure that horrible steward and Barrett's whore are getting fat on our hard work."

Fat, hardly. I couldn't remember the last time I'd had anything besides my morning bread and wedge of cheese. Occasionally, he'd slip me a morsel during one of his dinner parties, yet did that really count?

"Alisha!" Samuel snapped, and he must have realized how close they were to my balcony because he actually looked up. Their eyes widened when they saw me. Alisha's hand flew to her mouth in fear. She knew what she'd said could get her in trouble. If I bothered to repeat it.

Which I wouldn't.

I rolled my head back against the wall, ignoring them again as they shushed each other in panicked whispered.

"Go, Alisha. And keep quiet."

"What if he tells the master?" Alisha worried. "He'll send me off for the evening with just bread and water."

I couldn't help the snort that bubbled up. Oh, the hardship—one day with just bread and water. I just wanted them to leave so I tuned out the rest of their hushed conversation as they hurried off.

****

I spent the evening in Master's study. Waiting for his 'guest.' I was dressed again in a silky blue shirt and loose black trousers. No shoes of course. I stood in position at the side of the room, watching Richard make sure the side bar was stocked. I vaguely wondered about the hemlock Master had mentioned before. Was it waiting over there next to all those liquors? Would Lord Rowland even accept a drink? I hoped not.

"Maybe you should have your toy here suck off the count," Richard suggested as I tightened my grip on my wrist behind my back. "That would distract him."

Master chuckled as he approached me, his hand slipping over my head to my neck, forcing it back so I had to look up at him. "What do you say, pet? Will you help me distract the count?"

I swallowed reflexively. "Whatever you wish, Master."

I wondered if I could get a hold of the draught of poison. Then I wouldn't have to endure this anymore. Fortunately, thoughts of my mother, my parents, suffering in poverty had always kept me from acting on those thoughts, and they did so now. At least, no one in my family knew what I'd become. Especially not Tareth. Hell, I think I'd drink a whole gallon of hemlock if Tareth were to ever find out.

Master grinned at my response as his mouth claimed mine. He thrust his tobacco-flavored tongue down my throat as he pulled me against him.

"Sir," a new voice interrupted hesitantly. Master broke away, and I saw Samuel standing at the doorway, eyeing me oddly. Probably wondering if I'd said anything. It was obvious I hadn't, or Master would have spoken to the man by now.

"Yes, Samuel?"

"Um, the man you were awaiting arrived a moment ago."

"Excellent!" Master released me. "Send him in."

Samuel turned to leave, but not without one last look toward me, one that bordered on sympathy. I lifted my chin and looked away from him. I knew he'd seen my master's demanding kiss and my rigid stance. To hell with him and his fucking pity.

A moment later, a man dressed in dark clothes arrived, looking as if he'd run the whole way to the estate. "Lord Barrett, sir," he greeted with a bow.

"Gerard, how did it go?"

"Perfectly, sir. Lord Rowland's horse was taken lame by my rifle. His lordship was actually thrown and appears to have a slight limp himself. He has two men with him, and I think they were going to continue on with just the two horses. But the carriage you sent stopped just in time. I think it was a good idea to send a girl with the carriage pretending they were on their way back from shopping in town. He didn't seem quite as suspicious. After he told them he'd heard rifle shots and his horse was lame, Jeremy and Maggie offered for them to rest and come get a new horse here."

"And how did he take that suggestion? We know he doesn't like me."

"He was skeptical, of course, but Maggie was rather charming. So they are on their way. Jeremy stayed to lead the lord's horse, but the others should be here any minute."

"Perfect. We'll make sure he stays here."

I shifted nervously since everyone else was busy. I kept hoping Master would change his mind. I wished he'd send me back to our room; I didn't want to be here.

There was noise in the main hall, and Master motioned for me to sit on the couch. I slid across the room and settled myself on the couch as seductively as possible. I was barely aware when Samuel returned with Lord Rowland in tow, limping slightly.

"I don't have a lot of time, Lord Barrett," Rowland's deep voice stated. It reminded me a lot of his brother's, just less angry, less intense. Maybe because Rowland was older, he was naturally more composed.

"I'm sure you can spare a few minutes while your men visit my stables and prepare a horse for you," Master said sweetly.

"May I take your coat, sir?" Samuel asked Lord Rowland from the door.

Control. Discipline. I bit on my lip as I focused on not reacting to the meaningful look that passed between the two men. No one else noticed it. No one else would have expected it.

"Sure." The count passed his top coat over to Samuel, the corner of his mouth tipped in a small smile. I wondered what it all meant.

Lord Rowland huffed as he limped over to the couch and plopped down on the sofa opposite me. He barely spared me a glance as he focused on my master. I watched Richard hover in the background silently, like a vulture waiting to descend.

"I can see you hurt your leg when your horse was lamed. Please, allow Kye to massage it for you. He can help work out the kinks in the muscles."

I knew it was Master's way of getting me close to the man, to distract him and keep him busy; however, it still took me a second to slink off the couch and settle at the man's feet. Of course, the count hadn't expected me to move at all, and I was on the floor next to him before he'd fully realized what was happening.

His wide eyes met mine. "Oh, uh, it's just a tight muscle. I'm sure it'll be fine."

I forced a soft smile as I slid my hand over his knee. "I can help, if you'll let me, sir."

"Uh, I-I don't—" he stammered even though I was already pulling off his boot. He looked up at my master in shock, but Master only nodded, waving his hand that Rowland should accept my ministrations.

"Please, Lord Rowland, it's the least we can do for your troubles. I'm so sorry your horse was lamed near my lands. We've had such trouble with poacher lately. I've already sent my men out to search for the villain."

I had my slender fingers digging into tight calf muscles before he could protest any further. I could tell he was tense, unsure of what my master was up to, sending me to his feet like this. Still, he could hardly kick me away at this point.

"I-I'm surprised by your offer of hospitality, Lord Barrett. I'm afraid my brother and I might have upset you on our last visit."

Master waved his hand carelessly. "I'm sure you meant nothing by it. You and Lord Ashton are just frustrated I'm sure."

I was surprised by Lord Rowland's odd smile as he relaxed slightly. "Oh, to be sure."

Master looked at the man oddly too, casting a gaze over at Richard. "So, where are you off to in such a hurry?"

"Just heading north," Rowland said flippantly, glancing briefly at me on the floor before piercing his dark eyes up at my master. "Your companion is quite good with his hands. It feels better already. Thank you."

Master grinned as I continued kneading the count's calf muscle. He wanted to keep the count here for as long as possible so his own men could reach the port and intercept the Count's shipment. "And what is Lord Ashton up to this evening? Entertaining the ladies?"

"Actually, he's at the port. Supervising the unloading of our most recent shipment," the count said easily, watching Master's reaction.

My fingers froze as I felt the change in my master's demeanor. It was slight, but I was an expert at deciphering his moods—it was a survival skill. The smile on his face faltered ever so slightly. His eyes flicked over the count's shoulder to the steward.

"Oh, that's... that's wonderful. I'm glad you had no trouble this time."

"I think that's quite enough," Lord Rowland told me as he smirked up at my master before leaning forward to gently nudge me away as he slid his boot back on. His smile at me was almost kind as he slipped his hand over my head gently.

"Are you quite alright, Lord Barrett? You look a little... distraught," the count drawled as he sat back.

Even though the count looked at ease, I was practically shaking under my skin as I stared floor.

"I'm not sure what you mean."

Rowland laughed. "Just you look a bit piqued, that's all."

"I'm quite alright." I couldn't bring myself to look away from my master. He did look livid, a gleam of worry sparking in his eyes.

"I'm so glad. I'd hate for you to fall ill."

"So," my master finally managed, "you were saying Lord Ashton is currently at port?"

Count Sterling let out a bellow of a laugh, clearly amused at my master's discomfort. "Yes, well. We suspect there may be a spy in our midst..."

Master's jaw ticked.

"...so we let it out that we diverted our ship north to Markham. Right now a decoy is pulling into harbor there, full of soldiers. Should anyone attempt to accost the ship, they will be sorely disappointed."

I could tell Master was stunned at being outwitted. I found my hand tightening on Lord Rowland's knee, even though he seemed to have forgotten I was even there in his zeal to antagonize my master. I could practically see the realization dawning on Master's face. The heat rose up his cheeks in fury, even as he tried to contain it. I could hear my own heart thudding in my chest.

Fucking hell. Tonight was going to be bad. I could already feel ghost twinges stinging across my back.

"Well," Master finally murmured, accepting a tumbler of amber liquid from Richard, "I am pleased to hear you have things in hand."

"Yes, well, we hope to apprehend the thieves this time and bring them to justice," Lord Rowland voice resonated above me. "I've set the magistrate on notice. He will thoroughly question anyone caught this night. I expect we shall hear soon who is behind the attacks."

"I see. Well, it sounds like your men will have things thoroughly in hand, even with your unfortunate delay. So we might as well relax while we can," Master drawled, but the smirk on his face confused me. Master sipped slowly at his drink, looking like he was considering what the count had told him. At least the heat in his face was fading. He seemed almost... gleeful. I didn't understand the change in his mood.

Lord Rowland was basically telling Master that he was going to be arrested. He was losing everything. Why would he look—

My gaze turned up to the count—and I froze.

He had a crystal glass to his lips, drinking the amber liquid.

The drink. The hemlock.

Damn all the gods to hell.