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The river Pike flowed through Woodhall Gath, sometimes at ground level, sometimes across specially constructed aqueducts over people’s homes, sometimes beneath the ground in vaulted culverts. The river was divided and sub-divided into various tributaries which served different parts of the complex but the main body of the river flowed directly through the Great Castle. At the walls it split into two branches, one of which went through the cellars of servants’ quarters where it was used for laundry, washing dishes and so on. It was to this branch that the maids scurried every morning to wash.
The other branch flowed with picturesque undulations through the Court Gardens which were laid out over three acres in the heart of the Great Castle, overlooked by the King’s Tower. The gardens were off-limits to all but the court and a handful of gardeners, a fact that was definitely on my mind as I scaled the wall and dropped in behind a stand of sweet-smelling pines.
I’d learned there was a secluded spot by the river which was a favorite of Master Nicolo, somewhere he liked to spend a few quiet hours in his own company. It seemed a good spot to run into him without Balduin by his side. And I definitely needed to get Nicolo alone.
Very aware of my own breathing and the thump of my heart, I stole through the elaborate gardens to the spot in question. The river whispered quietly to itself as it snaked past and hanging willow trees grew along the banks, dipping their twigs to the water. Bushes of white flowers flourished between the trees, providing shelter from prying eyes. It was wonderfully peaceful here, and I could well understand why Nicolo loved it as he did. I couldn’t help wondering at the contrast between this place and Master Nicolo, himself, who was feared throughout Woodfall Gath and beyond.
Finding a spot where a notch in the bank created a natural pool, I knelt down. I had no idea when, or even if, the master might show up, but he needed to find me doing something, not just waiting for him. I let out my long golden hair then unlaced my bodice enough that I could shuffle it down my shoulders to stop it from getting wet. Then I leaned forward and dipped my hair into the water.
Even if Nicolo didn’t show up, this was the cleanest water with which I’d been able to wash since I’d arrived and I was sorely looking forward to it. For a few minutes, I soaked my hair slowly in the river water, which rose and fell alongside me. And then, as I stood up, I saw him.
Nicolo stood on the same bank as me but some twenty feet away, leaning against the trunk of a willow as if he’d always been there. I hadn’t heard him approach—it was almost as if he’d just popped right out of the ether.
He’d seen me.
And now he was watching me.
His expression was hard to read, but there was an unblinking intensity in his eyes that I took as approval. Pretending not to notice him, I dipped my hair into the water again, and while I was down, shuffled the hem of my neckline a little further down so it just barely covered my nipples and the water pooled around my breasts. Luckily, I’d been born with a very curvy figure, further sculpted by exercise and sport. As I came up and out of the water, there was no mistaking Nicolo’s reaction; though it was small but definite. His lips parted, his eyes widened. I finally had his full attention.
He still made no move, not to make greeting nor to berate me for being where I shouldn’t be. Instead, he just continued to watch me, clearly enjoying the brazen voyeurism.
Well, I had come this far.
I raised my eyes to his, to let him know I knew he knew I was here.
His expression didn’t change—perhaps he’d always known I was aware of his presence? My eyes lowered again as I began to further unlace my bodice. The maid’s uniforms weren’t as complicated as the elaborate dresses worn by the nobility, because maids needed to do everything at speed, so it was the work of moments for me to tug the blouse over my head and slip out of my skirts. I dropped down to cover my nudity with the water and then walked my clothing to the bank of the river. Depositing them there, I stood up.
The air felt cool on my naked body, but I was warmed by the heat of Nicolo’s gaze. I’d never undressed in front of a man before, and doing so now, I rather liked the sense of power it gave me.
Nicolo’s expression didn’t change except for a slight tightening of those chiseled features, but his eyes seemed to burn with fires that spoke of his inner desire. He never once blinked, whether I was in the water up to my neck or standing to reveal my whole body, his eyes seemed to consume my flesh.
Mistress Aurore had said that men sometimes touched themselves when they watched a woman in her most private of moments, but Nicolo didn’t appear to be doing that. He didn’t move from his position, but he didn’t look away either. Again, I relished the feeling of control I had over this incredibly powerful man. Truly, he was captivated by my every move.
As gracefully as I could manage it, I stepped out of the water (even someone with my training struggles to be elegant barefoot on a riverbank). I had no towel—I hadn’t planned to get wet in the first place—so I just put my clothes back on, the material clinging to my wet curves.
“Servants are not allowed here.”
I started.
He hadn’t made a sound as he moved towards me and was now standing right behind me. It was almost as if he’d simply blinked and arrived here. I turned to face him, eyes lowered, submissive and contrite, even as my mind raced with the mystery of how he’d moved so quickly.
“Apologies, Master Nicolo.”
“No apologies,” he answered in a tight voice. “Why are you here?”
“The water the maids wash in is… very dirty.”
I looked up at him when he didn’t respond. His eyes smoldered as he looked down at me, and I recalled Mistress Aurore’s words ‘Sometimes to control a man you must know when to let him be in control. There is no more powerful dominant than the one who knows when to be submissive.’
“That is no excuse.” His deep voice was thick with arousal.
“I apologize, Master.” I dropped my eyes and pretended to fidget with the hemline of my blouse. I wanted to appear… nervous, scared, intimidated. I had a feeling the role of the innocent might work well since he appeared so ultimately masculine, so dominant and fierce. Hopefully it was a risk that would pay off.
“You,” he started and then studied me as if I were a rare insect in a collection. “Where have I seen you before?”
“The castle, sir,” I answered.
