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“As far as Gwnyth is concerned, she wants me no more than I want her. Mountbane? He can be handled.”
“How so?”
“He has his schemes, I have mine.”
“And what would those be?” she asked.
He looked at her reprovingly. “Have you forgotten yourself? You’re still a slave and to ask such questions violates that premise.”
“I beg your forgiveness,” she said as she bowed her head.
“Consider me as your sovereign, Charlotte, while you placate your husband. But you will obey me, or fear reprisals you may not relish.”
“I’d love anything you gave me!” she assured him.
“Did you enjoy yesterday?”
“In some ways. I’m sure you saw my ecstasy. Of course, the night before was intensely humiliating.” She thought back to the grueling bondage. “Made no more than a common piece of furniture! I was beginning to believe that you regarded me as lowly as you made me feel.”
“Really? You were embarrassed to be so crudely used?”
“I was.”
“Hmm, then, I’ll have to try that again.”
“Oh, please. You do jest.”
“At some fancy dinner, I’ll have you turned into a footstool, or perhaps bind a tray to your back and you can serve my guests their drinks.”
“I would serve you so,” she answered him honestly.
“I’m sure you would.” He laughed more as though it were all in jest, though Charlotte knew that this cunning nobleman could be as wickedly ruthless as any Ilusian master, including Mountbane. “Perhaps I overacted yesterday in deference to my pupils,” he did explain. “After all, they are training for their roles in Mountbane’s service. And, we must be careful how we act with each other. When they return tomorrow, I will continue to instruct them while you obey. And when I leave, you’ll follow their commands as you would mine or any master’s. Is that clear?”
“I understand it all. But you’ll be leaving me?” She looked concerned.
“You’re to stay here as long as Mountbane wants you to remain away from the castle. I imagine it will take two weeks for the man to have his new tart used up and thrown out. By then, he might welcome you back in his bed and expect full compliance from your lips and body. You will give that, too.”
“Forever? And let my heart die every time I see you!” The look of melancholy in her face could move a less steady man to tears.
“Other arrangements will be made, soon. But such things take time.”
“Then I’ll be with you?”
“Then you’ll be with me,” he assured her.
She was troubled now. And though they made love once more before they slept, she couldn’t keep the sense of dread from her anxious body, or the wild imaginings of disaster out of her thoughts. By the next morning, she was sure that Sir Tristan’s and their covert love affair was a fated mistake.
In the morning, the pair was wise to guard themselves lest the two young men return to the hovel earlier than Tristan ordered them. They stayed clear of the bed and each other, acting more like master and slave than lovers. Charlotte was cleaning the kitchen like a kitchen slave and Tristan was putting on his leather boots.
“Tristan, this is too dangerous,” Charlotte said flatly. “Whatever plan you have crafted is foolish. Neither one of us would survive if we were caught. I can’t let you take the chance. I won’t. And I’m firm on that.” She sounded firm, like the adamant Charlotte of old. The man looked up, hearing her reckless words fly forth in an unexpected wave of passion.
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“I should whip you now for such insolence, milady. And whip you soundly for spewing this nonsense.”
“The danger is too great. I’m sure of it!” she answered tersely.
He moved up, grabbing her wrist away from her work, “Danger is part of life,” he reminded her with a voice as filled with passion as hers was.
