Every Breath She Takes [CURRENTLY ON HOLD]

Chapter 6: Back in Time

Duchess waited in her room, wondering what he would do to her. It had been so long since he laid a hand on her in anger – the last time had been so brutal that she’d lost the baby she’d been carrying. She hadn’t told Smoky that, preferring instead to think of the three she’d raised. Hopefully they were safe.

Her door opened, and she turned to look at him. Once, she had found him handsome, and had willingly joined with him. Now, she hated him. He came closer, and gripped her short cap of hair, pulling her head back and forcing her to her knees.

“You defied me, my Duchess,” he said, caressing her with his other hand. She didn’t move, knowing he didn’t want a response.

“So what shall I do? You must learn that I have to be obeyed, my dear. It’s better for us all, isn’t it? Yes.”

He gripped her throat, squeezing ever so slightly. She swallowed, but otherwise didn’t move. He dragged her to the bed, but only bound one of her wrists to the frame. She stood there, head bowed, waiting for it to start. When it did, she cried out softly, but didn’t scream. Despite the pain, she didn’t let herself. It gave him too much pleasure, and he had long since learnt that she didn’t scream. He was lucky to get her to make a sound at all.

When he was finished with her, she was slightly lightheaded, but she followed him anyway – she had to. What Smoky did shocked her, and made her realise that even if the young girl did seem to be the quietest of them, she was hiding herself.

The next time we were in the garden, Duchess told me her story. We sat on the grass under a couple of the trees, and she picked blades of grass while she talked.

“My mother died when I was a teenager,” she began. “And that left just me and my dad. He wasn’t the best dad in the world, but he tried. Sometimes, he tried too hard, like when he wanted me to get married. He –” With a jerk of her head, she made it clear that she was talking about our kidnapper. “Knew my dad, and Dad liked him. He thought we would be a good match.”

She stopped at my gasp of horror, but she didn’t acknowledge it, merely continuing. “He practically sold me to him. For all he knew, though, it was a good match. He seemed kind, and assured my father that he would take care of me. And he did – until Dad died. That was one and a half years later. From that moment on, I’ve practically been his slave – in all but name, really. I can’t escape it, because legally he’s my husband, and he won’t divorce me. He thinks he loves me, but I’m just a way to get money. We all are.”

I laid a hand on her arm. “Duchess,” I said gently. “I’m so sorry.”

She looked at me, and smiled slightly. Then she continued. “The first baby I had, she was his. I know that for sure. The other two, I don’t.” She sighed, and I rubbed her arm comfortingly. After a few minutes, I asked another question.

“Duchess. What’s your true name?”

Her shoulders sagged slightly. “Sarah,” she whispered. “My mother’s middle name. It’s the only thing I have left of her.”

“It suits you,” I replied. Then, we heard him calling us, and rose to obey. Neither of us wanted to go through the previous day again.

When I was returned to my room, it was only a matter of minutes before I had a customer. To my relief, it was the gentle man, back for the first time in a long time. I sat on the bed, hugging my knees, ignoring him completely. I was thinking about Duchess, and how one small mistake had given her a life of misery. The bed dipped, and I glanced over to see that he’d sat down beside me. I didn’t make a sound, and after a while, he put his arm around me.

“What are you thinking, sweetheart?” he murmured. I sighed, unsure whether I wanted to tell him or not. Finally, I looked at him, brushing my hair out of my face.

“Do you know who I am?” I asked quietly, looking him deep in his eyes. They were a gorgeous colour – deep dark blue, with just a hint of green in them. They were eyes that held laughter much more than anger, I realised.

He hesitated, and then shook his head. “No,” he replied.

“The bookshop,” I began, but he cut me off.

“Yes! You own the bookshop, don’t you?” He stared into my face, and I nodded.

“Yes.”

“Everyone’s been wondering where you went. There was a search and everything…” He trailed off, clearly realising that it had done nothing for me. He fell silent, motioning for me to go on.

I smiled slightly, and shook my head. “There’s nothing else I can say. But why are you so interested in me? I don’t understand,”

He shrugged. “I don’t know,” he replied softly. “I don’t understand it myself.”

I sighed. He pulled his arm back, getting up off the bed. I watched him, and slid further onto the bed.

“Take what you’ve paid for, sir,” I whispered. “There’s nothing you can do for me.”

He sighed, and as always, he was gentle. However, for some reason, I didn’t respond as I had before. Something was niggling me. He seemed to sense it, for he paused, looking into my eyes.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” he asked.

I shook my head. “Nothing you can do anything about,” I replied, and pulled him close, trying to distract him.

It didn’t work, for when he was done with me, and getting dressed again, he returned to the topic.

“Why is there nothing I can do? Surely he will let me buy you off him.”

I shook my head again. “He won’t,” I told him softly. “Not now.” I sat up, curling around my belly. He stood up at that point, and saw the movement.

“Are you alright?”

I snorted. “How can I?” I asked bitterly. “I’m a slave in all but name.”

But he shook his head. “That’s not it,” he said softly. “There’s something else.”

I refused to say, expecting him to get angry with me. He didn’t, though, merely changing the subject.

“Do you want me to look in at the store?”

I stared at him, shocked. “What?”

He nodded. “I’m serious. Do you want me to?”

I hesitated, and then nodded hesitantly. “If you don’t mind, sir,” I whispered. “Thank you.”

He smiled slightly. “How do I get in?”

I hesitated again, and then relented. “The key is round the side, under the plant pot.”

He nodded again. “Do you have a safe?”

“Yes.” I told him the code, and then he stepped forward, tracing my cheekbones with a gentle finger.

“That first time,” he murmured. “When you thanked me for being gentle. Why?”

I shivered, and looked away. “No one had been gentle with me,” I muttered. “You were the first, and still the only.”

He stepped back, looking shocked. But he didn’t say anything, only brushing my cheek almost tenderly before he left, the door locking quietly behind him.