Before entering Master's manor, I could not have imagined the luxury he took for granted. I'd known only my own home, the small wooden cabin where my father had cared for my sister and me, and then the inside of my room at the Palace which itself had been larger than my father's cabin. But now, as I sat in hot water up to my breasts, attended by a maid not much older than myself who affected not to be curious about who I was and why I had bruises on my thighs and bottom and why I had been escorted up here by my Master himself and why I was in Master's chambers and not guest quarters, now I began to understand the gulf that existed between my life of scarcity and the excess of the Governor's world.
When Master had left me with my handler, after his declaration that I would be accompanying him home, I had been certain I would never see—or be touched by—the man again. Despite his assertions, his promises, his attempts to convince me that life with him would be far preferable to life at the Palace, no small part of me was convinced he was just toying with me. My handler had stared at me for a long moment, as bewildered as I, and then had blindfolded me and led me on the meandering route back to my room. Once there, he again stared at me, seeming disappointed that I had earned no discipline marks. As he prepared to set to my evening bath and meal, my door had burst open, and a man in formal clothing—not the whites of a handler—had appeared with a sealed letter for my handler and a bundle of brown cloth that he revealed to be a dress.
"Girl, you've been sold," the man had announced, and while my handler scanned the contents of the letter, the man forced me down onto my bed and beat me with a belt before taking me from behind, pausing for a moment to explain that my new master had authorized this treatment and that he would be glad I had been taken in hand before being sent along with him. The shock and betrayal I had felt that my Master, who had so earnestly insisted that I would never be used by another, would turn me over so easily to this horrible man had seared my soul, more painful even than the assault.
I had no choice in any of it, but regardless of the consequences, I intended for my Master to feel the full brunt of my newfound hatred.
And he had.
And the pain in his eyes and the sincerity of his apology had left me reeling yet again, but the bizarre affection I had begun to nurture after our third night together was rekindled.
Why was this man so confusing?
And so, overwhelmed by the hugeness of his house and the haughtiness of his maid, I had retreated to the only safety I knew now, my Master's presence. His transparent joy when I had asked to come to his chambers had been unexpected. Where I had feared irritation for contradicting his order, followed by punishment for embarrassing him, instead he had brought me here himself and sent in a different maid to draw my bath and bring a meal.
I had no idea what would happen next.
I shot furtive glances at the maid, who had introduced herself as Glynn and had insisted on helping me undress—as though I could not manage to remove a simple dress under which I wore no undergarments—and filling the bath and even soaping my back! I had cringed at her touch, sure questions would arise about the condition of my behind and just who, in fact, I was, but she had been gentle and detached. The water was growing cool, and more than anything I wished for privacy, but as I reached for a length of towel, Glynn leapt into action. She snatched the towel from me and took my hand to support me as I stepped over the high side of the absurdly deep tub. She allowed me to dry myself, to my relief, and then produced a gown of light blue silk so beautiful I was certain it must be intended for a ball.
"Your nightgown, Miss," she said, settling it over my head. The material flowed over my skin, as tantalizing as Master's hands.
"Nightgown?" I echoed, the first words I had spoken since entering this room. "And you must not call me Miss!"
"But you are a guest of the Governor."
I was too ashamed to reveal that I, in fact, ranked beneath her, a lowly slave forever tethered to this man whom she served by choice. How could I respond? So I held my tongue and acquiesced to her further attentions as she brushed my hair to a shiny finish and tied it loosely with ribbons. She vanished only long enough to collect a light supper of a spicy soup, fruit, and pastry for me. At first, I was only grateful she did not attempt to feed me, but then I was stunned by the flavors, the heat and complexity of the soup, the sweetness of melons exploding on my tongue, and the indulgence of honey-soaked flaky pastry filled with nuts and dates.
Perhaps my Master had not been exaggerating about the comfort of life with him.
Glynn removed all traces of my meal when I had finished and, upon being assured that I needed nothing more, finally left me alone with my thoughts.
I had no idea what to do with myself. I had expected Master to stay with me, but it seemed he had things to attend to after several days away. Would he require my services before going to sleep tonight? My bottom twitched at the notion. The bath had soothed me, but I was still sore from that man's attentions, and Master had used me earlier this evening as well.
My breath quickened at the memory of his kisses, passionate and rough and honest.
I paced the room, afraid to explore and be caught in a place I should not be, afraid to go to sleep, though I was exhausted, only to learn that he had expected me to wait up for him. The carpets under my feet were piled thick, soft and warm, and Master's bed was large and masculine, with a dark wood frame and deep blue sheets folded back over a slate gray coverlet. I could not resist running my hands over the bedclothes. The sheets were fine linen, the coverlet silk-lined furs, the blanket beneath made of wool spun so fine I could not see the threads. Six pillows adorned the head of the bed—six! For one man!—each plump and well feathered.
I wandered out to the sitting room and finally perched on a sofa, feeling ever so elegant in my silk gown. I could not imagine sleeping in such a garment. If this was for sleep, what dresses would he provide for the daytime? I was not used to colors, either. I had worn the simple brown peasant dress my whole life, as had all the other girls I knew.
The left-hand side of the large double doors that led into Master's chambers creaked open, and I sprang to my feet, feeling as though I had done something wrong, though how could I know what was permissible without his instructions? Master entered alone, his hair hanging loose about his shoulders, his shirt untucked. He stopped when he saw me, clasped his hands behind his back, and examined me from head to toe.
"Hello, sweet girl," he said. "You are so lovely. I promised you silks, did I not?"
"Yes, Master. Thank you."
"Did you enjoy your meal?"
"Yes, Master. Thank you." What more could I say? How could I express the confusion burning in my breast, the fear of what was to come, the gratitude to be done with the Palace, the unbelievable decadence of his life compared to my own? How could I ask what was to become of me now, where I was to sleep, to whom I was to answer, what I was to do when not serving him? And could I beg him to give me one night's reprieve, not to demand anything of me for this first night as I grew accustomed to my new surroundings and my new life?
He approached then, held out a hand and touched my face, came closer still until my nose was nearly buried in his chest, tipped my head back with a finger under my chin, and kissed my lips. "You are exhausted," he said. "I am surprised to find you awake."
Was I permitted to speak? I waited for some direction, my eyes locked on his, arms dangling useless at my sides. I did not know how to behave.
"Would you like to sleep, sweet girl?" he continued.
"Yes, Master. Very much." I stifled a yawn.
