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Dara was not going to argue, nor was she bothered to undress. She flopped onto the bed and instantly fell asleep.
Chapter Three
Matthew watched by the gate, waiting for Maggie to arrive with Dara. It was Monday evening and Dara had been two full days with Maggie. She had not returned early, which meant she had survived the ordeal of Maggie’s tasks. He half-expected Dara to run away and come back with her tail between her legs. But, to her credit, she hadn’t. He concluded she was tougher than she appeared, and probably stubborn with it. He admired women with backbone. A milksop would not be worth the effort. He might like to show his manly ways when it came to fucking, but work required endurance and tenacity, not a doe-eyed girl.
Against the darkening sky, he almost missed them. Four women walking along the lane. Maggie had brought along her daughters. As he waited, he heard their voices and laughter. Dara was laughing along with them. She carried a basket, swinging it in her hand, and a chicken was tucked under her arm. Matthew had lost two the other week to a fox and Maggie had promised him one of hers in return for a piglet his sow had birthed a few months ago. Only the runt, but Maggie didn’t mind.
Matthew walked up the hill to greet them. Dara’s face was rosy and slightly dirty. Her hair was down and blowing in the breeze. Not only had she survived her spell with Maggie, she seemed to have made friends with the widow.
“Here she is, Matt. I’ve brought her back, and I have to say I’d have kept her on if she works for nuffin’. She’s not too bad, needs plenty of eyeballing, some words of encouragement when she whines.” Maggie leaned toward him and whispered, “I get that you might have thrashed her and that’s probably why she did as she were told. Keep up with that if I were you.”
“She learnt a thing or two?” he asked nervously.
“She can churn butter and make your bread. She’ll not drop eggs or run away from the chickens. She might not like the goats or geese though. As for milking, she’s still too slow. She sewed a few buttons on this morning. Not quite straight but...” Maggie sighed. “Tis the best I could do with her, Matt. I hope you don’t mind.”
Matthew cocked his head at the young woman he’d taken in. “Well?”
Dara held out the basket. “These are eggs I collected,” she said proudly. “Didn’t break one. And I can climb a ladder.”
It was a start, he agreed. She had potential and determination. There were heavy shadows under her eyes but she’d persevered. However, fatigue was something that a life on the farm was all about. She would have to cope with the long hours.
“Did she rise at dawn?” he asked Maggie.
Tilly, the younger of the sisters, giggled. “Had to tickle her feet. She wasn’t keen.”
Dara scowled. “It’s unnatural rising before the sun is even in the sky.”
Matthew collected the hen from Dara. “Do you want supper before you return, Maggie?”
“Just a glass of warm milk will do, Matt. We best get back.”
He poured them a cup of hot milk each and poured ale for himself from a pitcher. He raised his tankard and toasted Maggie. “Many thanks. Let’s hope the crops grow tall, the pigs fatten, and the cows chew the best cud.”
Maggie drank her milk in one flow of gulps. She smacked her lips. “Let’s pray for all that and more. Come, girls. We’ll leave Master Matthew with his servant.” Just as she reached the door, she turned and winked.
Matthew suspected Maggie would guess that Dara was not a typical servant. But Maggie was discreet and wouldn’t say anything to anyone in the village in the valley, which was important. Nothing must get back to Willowby Hall about Dara.
Left alone with Dara, he watched her rinse out the cups. She did so without him asking. A small thing, but it told him much. Two days with Maggie had taught her some humility. But what he wanted to teach her went beyond milking cows and collecting eggs.
“Leave that.” He walked up to her back and rested his hands on her hips. “I’ve missed you, lass.” He gave her waist a squeeze. He noticed she’d not cinched herself tightly. Loose-waisted clothing was better for arduous work.
A little sigh escaped her lips. “I missed you, too.”
“You ache, I know, and you’re bone weary. I can be quick.”
“You can take as long as you like, sir.” She glanced over her shoulder. “I’m willing.”
“If I am, you’ll be too. It’s the way it is. Hitch up your skirts.” He drew her away from the bowl of dishwater. “Go stand by that beam over there.” The abutting beam supported the upper storey, which he no longer used because it was full of memories. He’d even removed the stairs for fear he might be tempted to go up there and ponder on things best forgotten.
The beam was as wide as her waist, made from a great oak and slanted slightly—it was thicker at the base and sloped upward to the ceiling. An ideal support for her to lean against.
However, she didn’t know what to do. He’d have to show her. Her skirts she bundled around her waist, she knew that much, and she lifted them until her bottom was exposed. The red tan he’d given her had faded considerably. He once again admired the pale complexion of her globes. He tucked the skirts into the girdle she wore around her waist, keeping them in front of her. She was breathing so rapidly, he thought she might faint.
“Hush, pet,” he said calmly, knowing that in a moment he would be exerting himself hard, so hard she might be crushed against the pillar. She needed to be sturdy on her tired limbs.
He directed her hands to the beam, one on either side, and she clung onto the wood, pressing the side of her face against it also. With a firm grip on her hips, he positioned her bare behind upward, making her bend. He knocked her feet aside, spreading her wider. She’d left her boots by the door, and her stockings were torn in places. He’d buy her woollen ones, durable and warm, and better suited to her new life than fashionable silk ones.
From out of his breeches his rod stood upright and proud. She had no eyes on it, but she would feel its might soon enough. He cupped a palm between her legs and felt for the opening. It was lush, plump, and ripe for taking. He took advantage of her nectar and used it to make his erection slick.
