Lord Groat had finally let Tommy go back to his nagging wife after three days. He knew he had been hell to live with those three days and would find a way to repay his groundskeeper. He had spent his fourth day of "hunting" riding through the country, hating the cold, the wind and the rocky, primitive roads. But now he looked at things in a different light. He saw how the rugged land had fused a strong people. People like Kate Aileen O'Riley, the Vixen who was waiting for him back at his manor.
In the late afternoon, he finally gave into his urge to see her and turned his horse back toward the main house. He washed the dust off in the horse barn and waved off his supper as he passed through the kitchen. Manu was on the stairs to his chamber. So long had he known his valuable servant that a simple look told him all was in order and there was nothing that could not wait until morning. He acknowledged him with a nod and kept going up the stairs.
When he reached his chamber he stopped before entering the room, vowing to himself that he would not repeat the events of two nights ago. He would remain in control and he would show her who was master. He would beat her if she needed it and he would take her in any way he pleased. His resolve was only slightly broken when he saw her kneeling at the foot of his bed.
Her head was bowed. Her red hair cascaded down over her shoulder and over her slave's collar. It didn't seem possible, but the collar made her even more desirable. She wore a fine white linen shift. It flowed over her breasts like milk, and then to the floor in a puddle about her knees. Her hands were behind her back. She spoke a single word. With perfect reverence and a tremor that sent a shudder through his body, she said, "Master."
His breath hitched before he could catch it. How could this diaphanous vision exude such strength and nearly bring him to his knees? He steeled himself before he moved forward. He walked up to her, took the ring of her collar, and lifted her to her feet. Then it came to him (and he was grateful for the shift in his mood) that she had been told she was to be naked at all times. Her humble countenance did not hide her defiance. At their first meeting as Master and Slave she had covered herself. Now, he put a finger under her chin and raised her head until her eyes met his. One eyebrow raised,he looked at her as if she was a child that had been caught stealing from the kitchen. With his hand he gripped the top of her shift.
As his hand ripped from her body the only piece of clothing she could call her own, she opened her cursed mouth. "Fillean meal ar an meallaire." Again, she regretted it before it was done. Mother Mary, when would she learn to be quiet? She tried to recover her transgression by lowering her head.
"Well, my Vixen. I've learned a few tricks while you were playing the life of the Queen here at the manor. I can now say with some assurance that you just cursed me. And that is not how my slave will act. Give me your hands, slave."
She complied, and he pulled her roughly over to the wall near the window. There was a ring and hook just over two meters off the floor. He pulled her hands up, stretching her beyond her height. He attached her handcuffs to the ring so her body faced the wall. He was pleased to see that. Her toes just barely touched the ground, so she had no choice but to let her full weight lie against the cold stone wall, flimsily shielded by an ancient worn tapestry, which offered little protection against the cold. She swore she heard him snicker, the bastard, as he took a hand and with little effort, pushed her to one side - quite effectively setting her to swing like a pendulum.
She could do nothing to prevent her body from swinging and her nipples from rubbing against the rough cold tapestry. The pain only increased as her nipples hardened at her predicament. She cursed - but kept her words to herself.
Lord Groat had in fact snickered at her expense. What a clever Master he was, punishing this slave with little effort on his part. Clever in fact was facing her toward the wall until he could get his passion in check. He went to his desk. Duke, who had been watching them both carefully, seated himself between Master and Slave. Groat looked through the correspondence on his desk to try and get his mind off his Vixen.
There was nothing really urgent. But he took his time and made as much noise as possible to suggest he was not paying attention to the slave on the wall. At the bottom of the pile was a note from Manu. He recognized his careful penmanship immediately. It started with a report on the house and the condition of the Lord's holdings. At the end was a special note regarding the Irish woman. It read:
"Your Noble Lord is indeed a wise man to keep a slave the likes of Mistress O'Riley. In all the harems of Arabia I have never seen such a natural submissive. But what really makes her extraordinary is her strength of mind. Being a student of the mind, I did study the Irish woman to find the origin of such a strong desire. The wonder is that it seems to all be in her head - her vivid imagination. Her needs are real. But the objects of her desire are, to this date, just like the Irish fairies - only in her heart and mind. She is, as you have wisely surmised, yours to own; yours alone to Master. - Your obedient Servant, Manu."
Groat knew when he was being manipulated, but he also knew it was for his own good. The jealously that had been threatening to eat a hole in his stomach started to dissipate. He knew, for all his ability to spin a story, Manu would not lie to him. So the Vixen had no real Captain she was pining for; only a man of her dreams. And I was that man now? In that instant, he imagined her below him as she looked up into his eyes and she wrapped her legs around him….He shook his head to clear the image. "She's a damned assassin," he said, without realizing he had spoken aloud.
He need not have worried as Kate did not hear him. The pain in her breasts was nearly unbearable. As she could do nothing to stop her body from pressing into the wall, the cold of the stone had slowly sunk into her flesh. It started as a dull ache, but it grew until even the movement caused by her breathing seemed to make it worse.
