The African trinkets

My hero lost his mind

Magnolia hadn't a wink of sleep that night. She lay next to a slumbering Lance and stared into the nothingness of the night through the window. Magnolia felt like a raw, exposed nerve as if something in the near past was only settling in now and she was feeling a belated reaction.

She pieced together short and sharp snippets of her troublesome memories. Magnolia's brain was trying to protect her by censoring out a past hurt too ferocious that it threatened to drive her to the brink of no return. After an hour or so, when Lance stopped snoring, Magnolia knew that this belated feeling of oddness at the base of her chest was not linked to the detestable Phillip and or kindhearted Marcus. It certainly did not involve the childish, foot stomping, tantrum throwing brat Victoria and she ruled out Mrs Tate because she was an irrelevant figure in Magnolia's life.

Just when she thought that she might drift off to sleep Lance moved in his sleep and his arm brushed against hers and she winced. A bruise? She thought. Magnolia forcefully willed for her brain to reveal the cause for this bruise and countless others that she would randomly find on her body but could not pin point the cause for whatever reason. Magnolia gently stroked the tender spot and a cohesive flood masked her eyes:

He had done it again and I'd be damned if Lance thought that he was going to do it again. I'm finished with Lancelot Tate and as soon as he unhands me I'll be so swiftly gone with the wind that he wouldn't know what hit him. I remarked all of this in my mind as I made my way to his bedroom. I forcefully opened the door then arrogantly slammed it.

"Your Highness," I theatrically spread my arms out and bowed until I could kiss the tops of my knees, "You beckoned?" I stood up and assessed the pitiful man who owned me. Lance sat on the bed, he was shirtless and his hair was undone and he was beautiful in the late afternoon glow. I was nearly distracted for a moment but the gesture of Lance patting the space next to him.

"I wish you would not call me that." Lance smiled as I approached the bed but the smile quickly fell when I did not sit next to him, "What is the matter now? I thought you wanted this." I did want this, very badly but according to Lance intercourse was a lifetime binding deed.

"Forgive me, Master, but acquiring the knowledge of my lifetime employment at the Tate estate does not an amorous mood make." I crossed my arms. I was ready to fight, I wanted to fight.

"Not this again." Lance groaned, rubbed his face and stood up, "I thought you knew what having intercourse meant to me and what it should mean to you."

I walked up to him and stood toe to toe, "What should it mean to me?" Even though there was a significant height difference I pugnaciously stared into Lance's vast, endless oceans for eyes.

Lance's golden eyebrows furrowed as he searched for the right words that would communicate his wish and calm me down. My glare never broke even when his thumb began to gently stroke the edge of my cheek bone, "I've made the necessary calculations, Nolia, once I've had you I wish to never part with you." His hand now moved to my temple and collected a loose coil and gently tugged on it.

I ducked away from his hand, "As charming as you pretend to be, Lancelot, I do not appreciate the cementing of my position here."

Lance's expression darkened and a storm was brewing in his eyes, "What about it do you not appreciate? The fact that you have total security of food, a place to lay your head?"

"Is that what you think this is? Food and sleep quarters are not the qualities that attracted me to you, Lancelot!" I was frustrated at how simple he was being.

"Ah, so it is my cemented affection that repels you!" He roared and charged towards me and stopped as soon as was against me.

"No, what repels me is this. How can you possibly offer me a lifetime of security when you are so meagerly insecure." I spoke firmly to his chest because lance towered over me. His chest moved as he took in ragged, uncontrollable breaths. Lance began to walk into me, forcing me to walk backwards until we hit a wall, "You've never been so pathetic before. What am I to expect tomorrow?" I was deliberately being cruel because as much as his the crazed look in his eyes frightened me it also excited me, "I suspect that I'll find you weeping into the cloth of my skirts if I dawdle on the way back from the market."