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Stepping back, she closed the door. She warmed herself by the fire as she maneuvered her hands in such a way that she could reach the clips that held the cuffs closed. She resisted the urge to toss them onto the couch or, better yet, into the fire. Instead, she got to her feet and took them into the bedroom.
While she was there, she stripped the sheets and put them into the washing machine. No doubt, some of the staff slaves would be sent down to clean out the place once they’d vacated, but at least she could do her part.
Leaving the bedroom, she made her way to the kitchen. After pouring herself a cup of coffee, she opened the refrigerator. There was still plenty of food left, enough for another week…
Stop it.
She pulled out eggs, milk, butter, bacon, maple syrup and what remained of the blueberries from the fridge. Getting out the frying pan, she arranged strips of bacon and turned the burner to a low heat. Retrieving the flour, baking powder, sugar and salt from the pantry, she set about making pancake batter.
She had just finished setting the table when Master Damon entered the cabin, bringing another blast of chilly air with him. He stamped his boots on the mat and hung up his jacket.
Ellen rushed over and knelt in front of him. “Let me help with your boots, Sir.”
He shrugged. “Sure.”
As she tugged them off one at a time, he lifted his head, sniffing the air, “It smells fantastic in here. I’m starving.”
“Your timing’s perfect. Everything is ready, including a fresh pot of coffee.”
While he helped himself to a cup, she carried the food to the table. Once he was seated, she asked, “May I serve you, Sir?”
“Wait,” he said, gesturing toward the plates in the center of the table with a grin. “You mean that’s not all for me?”
“Uh, that would be a no,” she retorted, grinning back in spite of herself.
She served him and herself, her stomach rumbling in anticipation.
“Man,” he said through a mouthful of pancakes. “I’m going to miss being treated like a king.”
Then why…
She stopped herself from even forming the thought, much less voicing it.
They ate in companionable silence for a while. Eventually, too full to eat another bite, Ellen set down her fork. To distract herself from their impending goodbyes as much as anything, she said, “You mentioned last night that you’re flying to the Middle East next week. Is that for business?”
He looked suddenly animated. “Yes. We’re still in the initial stages of the project. An ex-army buddy of mine, Martin Ahmad, runs a nonprofit that seeks to provide international support for disenfranchised women and girls in the more repressed countries in the region. He’s asked me to conduct a thorough security assessment to identify specific risks and develop tailored risk mitigation strategies to address identified threats in some areas that are at least nominally amenable to change. I hope to eventually help develop training programs for women and girls addressing personal security and self-defense, plus offer technological solutions like mobile support apps and panic buttons, and to work towards establishing safe spaces and shelters for women facing immediate danger.”
“Wow,” Ellen said sincerely. “That sounds amazing, assuming you can get past the authoritarian regimes that keep those women powerless in the first place.”
He shrugged. “That’s Marty’s area of expertise. He’s fluent in Arabic and sensitive to the politics and social climate in the region. He has a lot of connections over there, not to mention deep pockets. I’m just glad to do what I can.”
Just as Master Damon pushed back from the table, they heard the sound of what must be the snowplow trundling by. He jumped up and moved toward the door.
“Oh, good,” he said, peering out the front window. “They’ve got the road cleared.” He glanced at his watch. “We should head over to the main house soon. I’ll handle cleanup. Why don’t you go pack and get dressed?”
That was it? No last session in the playroom? No long, lingering romantic kiss? No sudden change of heart?
Feeling contrarian and downright unsubmissive, Ellen lifted her chin. “That won’t be necessary, Sir,” she said stiffly. “Slaves are not permitted to enter the Enclave wearing clothing. I came down here in just my coat. I’ll be fine returning the same way.”
Without waiting for a response, she flounced from the room, blinking back sudden, unwelcome tears.
Chapter 24
Ellen slid into the passenger seat while Damon loaded his bags into the trunk and tossed hers into the back seat. He’d already started the car to get it warm for the short drive up to the main house. The roads were clear but he still took it slowly.
“I can’t believe how quickly this week has passed,” he said conversationally as he drove.
Ellen didn’t reply. She was staring fixedly out of her window. Having had ample opportunity to read her emotional cues and body language over the past week, he could tell she was upset about something.
