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To see someone so elegant, so beautiful, was probably the highlight of these men’s days.
She walked almost as if she floated on the ground, her steps as graceful as the rest of her. Another girl trailed behind her, her head lowered to the ground as if she didn’t even dare look around.
They both seemed similar in age—no older than twenty.
But there was a mountain of difference in their countenances. Whereas, the mistress of the hacienda was overflowing with confidence—her spine straight, her head held high—the other girl seemed like a timid mouse, trying to blend into the background.
What was more surprising than anything, was that she stopped in front of Jackson, offering him a bag of extra food and water.
She was talking. Her lips were moving, tipping up as she smiled down at the young man.
Rafaelo stared at the display, trying to make sense of what was happening.
Why was she…?
Out of nowhere, her hand reached out and touched Jackson’s cheek, lingering there for a moment as she leaned in to whisper something into his ear.
Rafaelo swallowed hard, the sight opening a chasm in his heart that he could not explain, nor understand. He could only stare at their proximity, his blood rushing to his head, as foreign pain assailed him.
His mouth set in a grim line, he wrenched his gaze away from them.
What did he care about her anyway? She could show favor to whoever she wanted. It wasn’t as if he knew her or had any connection to her aside from that one unfortunate encounter, when she’d thrown the plate at him.
Taking a bite off his sandwich, he munched slowly, annoyed to find the food tasteless. The water, too, allayed none of his thirst, so his mood continued to plummet.
He spent a few moments simply looking at the ground, before curiosity got the best of him and he half-turned his head, so that he could catch another glimpse.
She was still there, chatting with Jackson and laughing at something he’d said.
Rafaelo gritted his teeth.
Why was she even here? What business did she have with her husband’s slaves? Surely, going by the way she’d behaved towards him, she seemed to abhor those lower than her. So why the hell was she making sweet eyes at Jackson?
He took a bit off his sandwich, his eyes still on the duo as he chewed with disgust.
He couldn’t hear anything of what they were saying, but he could imagine how the young man was trying to impress her, not only because she was the mistress of this place, but also because she was a stunning woman.
She spoke again, and Rafaelo watched helplessly how her lips moved with each word.
He wondered what her voice would sound like.
He liked to believe it would be screechy and annoying, the opposite of her appearance—anything to lessen this morbid interest he’d seemed to develop of her.
Narrowing his eyes, he was ashamed to admit that he was trying to read her lips to see what she was saying, yet he failed miserably as his brain was trying to mislead him with the most absurd scenarios.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
It wasn’t the first time he asked himself that, but it sure as hell was the first time he truly meant it.
She’s the enemy,he told himself. He couldn’t fall for a pretty face when he’d experienced her cruelty first hand.
For God’s sake, he’s gone through life without once noticing a woman—not like that anyway—and here he was, enslaved and with a growing obsession towards a viper.
He needed to get a grip on himself.
She spent a few more minutes chatting with Jackson before she turned her attention to the other slaves, walking around and looking at them with disgust.
And there it was—her true face.
