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She woke to find a quilt covering her body, the fire lit, and a plate of food by her nose. She was hungry and thirsty. Matthew was back in his rocker, a tankard in his hand, and with a fresh pipe of tobacco.
“You slept like a baby,” he said, smiling. “Did I wear you out?”
She propped herself up on her elbow and nibbled on a slice of bread. “No. I thought you needed the rest.” She shook her unruly hair out with a flick of her hand.
He leaned forward, the chair tipping with him. “That’s good, because I’m not finished. You eat up, Dara, restock, and then we’ll see what you’ve learnt.”
She swallowed a dry lump of bread with a solemn gulp. “You’re not finished?”
“Aye. I’m weighing up whether to fuck you this way or that, seeing that you’re rested.” He had re-buttoned his breeches. It was obvious there was movement; his cock was bulging.
She stared, the tip of her tongue caught behind her lower teeth, and watched as he rose to his full height, plucked the buttons from his breeches, and grasped his fully erect shaft.
“Finish up, there’s a good lass. The day is still young.”
From chair to table, then onto the bed, they moved, often coupled together, other times he picked her up and carried her. There were calm periods, when she ate hungrily, bathed a little, slept perhaps in a strangely dreamless way. At one point, she giggled uncontrollably. She could not remember why exactly, only that he had his fingers inside her.
By the time candles were lit, she was too spent to think, never mind command her body to answer any of his wishes. Finally resting on the bed, she found she was not alone with her exhaustion. Matthew had succumbed to slumber. Naked and lying on his back, he had one arm tossed above his head, the other resting on her bottom.
“Well,” she murmured, “that’s the best Sunday I’ve ever had. I wish all days were Sundays.”
Chapter Five
She walked out of the farmhouse carrying an empty wicker basket and halted. The sun had already baked the mud in the yard dry and Barnaby, the largest of the dogs, was running around in circles barking. Across the other side of the yard, leaning against the gate, were three young men. Two with fair heads, one as dark as coal. All three had a complexion that was ruddy and tanned. They wore thick belts around their long breeches, leather jackets, and no vests. The tallest was fanning himself with a flat cap, the smallest chewed on a stem of straw. The short stout one climbed onto the gate and sat on the top of it.
The fairest whistled. “What have we ‘ere. ‘As the master got himself a wench?” He clapped the shoulder of the dark-haired man, nearly knocking him off the gate. The trio burst into raucous laughter.
Unsure if she should retreat into the house or continue to the barn, she stayed on the spot.
“Come ‘ere, girl, so’s we can get a better look at thee,” said the one with the straw dangling out of his mouth.
“Who are you?” she yelled.
“They’re my farmhands,” Matthew growled from behind her. He emerged from the house and marched toward the men.
Immediately, they changed their stance. The straw was whipped out of the mouth, while the tall one clutched his cap to his chest. The silent one climbed off the gate where he’d been perched.
Dara followed Matthew.
“These are my hired labourers. Ezekiel,” Matthew pointed at the tallest. “Lemuel, his brother.” The other fair one. “And Kurt.”
The dark-haired one bowed his head. “Fraulein.”
“He’s from Germany. Came for a visit and stayed. Now, lads, are you finished at Mother Hobbs?”
They nodded. “Barn is up. Field is ploughed and planted.”
“Good.” Matthew turned to her. “Mother Hobbs lives in the valley yonder. Her husband broke his leg barn building. So I sent my three lads to help finish it and do other chores for her until the leg fixed. I can manage for a while on my own.” He took Dara’s arm and drew her closer to him. “This is Dara. She’s a milkmaid and will be living in the house as my servant.” He squeezed her arm to stop her protesting at the description. They had not agreed on a suitable explanation for her presence.
“Miss Dara,” said Lemuel with a cheesy grin. “It’s been a while since...” He withered under Matthew’s stare and stepped back.
Matthew planted his hands on his hips. “Well, now you’re back, you can be about it. There’s work waiting for you. And as for Dara here, you’ll leave her be. She’s busy.”
“Master,” they murmured in chorus.
The three men dispersed, one to the barn, the other two to the fields.
“You employ them?” Dara asked.
