Clans of Luteri Ch. 03

Emma woke the next day to an empty room. She quickly went and put on the dress, going to the accommodations. A tray was there when she returned. She brought it in and ate, replacing it, going back into the room and closing the door.

She went to the window, looking out. Spring had come and the whole countryside was alive with color. He'd hardly needed to threaten her if he were going to leave for a time. She had nowhere to go. She had no money, only the clothes she was in. She sighed, sitting on the bed. He hadn't had sex with her at least, despite purchasing her for it. She looked around again. She didn't even have anything to read.

There would be books downstairs in a house like this. She thought if she were quiet and careful, she could find one and return without anybody noticing. She'd done it at the mansion she had lived in with Lord Montrose, putting the books under the bed where nobody would see them.

She opened the door, peering out, and then walked to the rail and looked down. It was deserted, although she heard voices from the kitchen. She walked down the stairs quietly. There were so many rooms in this house, each more grand than the last. She was walking quickly, looking around herself. She saw it through an open door. A piano. She slipped in, closing the door behind her quietly.

The room was beautiful, full of light through the large window, dark wood upholstered furniture and a huge mural of birds and leaves, the floors polished wood. She walked to the piano, sitting down in front of it. She ran her fingers lightly along the keys. She muted the keys with her foot, playing softly, from memory, and then another. She realized someone was standing to her right.

She startled, stopping. She immediately stood up, retreating, putting her hands behind her back. Lord Shetlan smiled at her. He must have already been in the room.

"I haven't heard the sound of the piano in the house since my sister married," he said.

"I am sorry to disturb you, Lord Shetlan," she said. She swallowed. "I thought I could find a book—."

She stopped, beginning to breathe fast. Stupid, what was she doing? This was not the orphanage. They would not be her books to borrow and this was not her piano to play.

"I apologize, Lord Shetlan. I wasn't thinking. I shouldn't have touched it. I won't come downstairs again."

"Please come here and play anytime. Music never disturbs me."

"Thank you, Lord."

She walked past him quickly toward the door, opening it.

"Would you still like a book, Emma?" he called after her.

She stopped in the doorway, turning around, clasping her hands in front of herself.

"It was foolish of me, Lord Shetlan. Please don't trouble yourself."

"Not at all. The library is this way."

He passed her and she hesitated, following. He brought her into a room with books lined all the way to the ceiling, and a fireplace and large leather chairs, a desk. She stood, waiting.

"What kind of things do you like to read? Perhaps I can recommend something."

She didn't know what to say.

"At the orphanage I read everything," she said.

He walked to the bookshelf beside her and she backed away.

"Did you like poetry?" he asked, not seeming to notice. "Plays? Or perhaps even a novel?"

His glance at this last was teasing. She looked down.

"I was not allowed to read novels, Lord. Miss Stram took the ones that were donated to the orphanage and destroyed them. They are not polite, I was told."

Lord Shetlan walked and ran his fingers along the titles of the books, picking one, and then another, a third and a fourth.

"These are some of my favorites. This is a novel of adventure—I was partial to them as a boy—and this is a book of poetry by Stillbright, and this is a play by Alenti that might interest you. This," he said, picking up the fourth, "was one of my sister's favorites, a romance, and I will leave it to your judgment if it is so poisonous. I certainly have not read it."

He set them on a table and wandering away as if looking for another. She hesitated and then approached and picked them up, tucking them under her arm.

"You're very kind, Lord Shetlan," she said, turning to go to the room. "I will return them, thank you."

"You are welcome to read here, Emma. The library is more comfortable. Do you ride?"

She flashed to the gray-haired man at Lord Montrose's estate.

(That you like to ride fast and hard.)

She looked down sharply.

"I was learning, Lord, at...at—."

"Why don't we go to the stables? It's a beautiful day."

She looked longingly out the window.

"I don't have the proper clothing, Lord Shetlan, and I am not sure that Lord Tavishi would want me to leave the house. I don't think I should have left the room."

But her gaze stole out the window again. He saw it and smiled.

"Come. Leave the books there, you can come to the library anytime. The servants will not move them. Let's go and visit the stables, if only for the fresh air. Lord Tavishi had some business in the city and will not return for a few days."

#

Kane opened the door to Jaime's estate, sidestepping a servant. He wandered through the front rooms, but Jaime's usual idling places were empty. He went upstairs to the room, but the Corsaire wasn't there. He came downstairs again, concerned. He had only been gone for three days and he'd asked Jaime to keep an eye on her.

He located a servant.

"Where is he?" he demanded.

"Lord Shetlan is at the lower stables, I believe, Lord Tavishi, with the young woman."

The stables? Kane frowned, exiting the front door and making his way down the hill. He heard Jaime's laughter and came around the corner. Jaime was watching the Corsaire, who was sitting on the ground, a different dress, hay all over her skirts, with four domesticated dog pups jumping and wriggling on her lap.

She was smiling up at Jaime. She looked completely different. Shai, her smile was sweet. For a moment he couldn't see past it. Then the Corsaire saw him and the smile was gone, fear replacing it. She picked up the pups that were wiggling on her lap and set them down, getting to her feet, brushing herself off. She looked down, folding her hands in front of her.

"Kane! You're back. I was just showing Emma the new litter," Jaime said, smiling at him.

Then Jaime looked at his face and his smile faded.

"Go to the room," Kane said to her.

She didn't look at either of them, walking quickly past him out of the stable and up the hill toward the mansion.

"I told her she could come here, Kane," Jaime protested mildly. "She has not been out of my sight. It's harmless."

"It is not harmless," Kane retorted. "Did you go into the room and get her?"

"No, she came downstairs—."

"It is not harmless," Kane repeated. "She is not harmless. I do not want you fraternizing with the Corsaire."

"Why do you call her that? She has a name."

"She asked me the same question," Kane ground out. "And I will tell you what I told her. It is not her name, she is my enemy, and I do not care."

Jaime scoffed.

"She is no dangerous enemy of Tavishi, Kane. She's hardly going to attack me. She is an innocent young woman—."

"She is not innocent, not by Alverian standards, not by Tavishi standards, Jamie. And if I had not retrieved her from that estate, she would be right now spreading her legs unwilling for some vicious Alverian lord and you would not have made any effort to stop it."

Jaime stiffened, blood creeping into his cheeks.

"This isn't like you, Kane," Jamie said. "If you would just spend some time with her—."

Kane gave a short, bitter laugh.

"Why would I? So that when I return her to Luteri we can arrange our social schedules? What exactly do you think is going to happen when I take her there?"

Jamie went still, staring at him.

"What do you mean, Kane?"

Kane forced down his anger. He didn't want to involve his friend. There were certain things that didn't translate across their cultures. Jaime had never really understood clan feud. He reached for patience.

"I don't want you developing an attachment to her. You're my friend, Jaime, I would give my life for you. She is Corsaire, my enemy. It is that simple, it is final, and it cannot be another way. Everything I am, my clan's honor, my personal honor, is bound up with this. Trust me, spending time with her will not change my mind. You will not change my mind in this matter."

He stalked away, heading for the house. By the time he had gotten there he was furious. The Corsaire had manipulated the situation, left the room, sought out his friend, turning his head with her beauty and her smiling at him. He walked upstairs and opened the door.

The Corsaire was sitting at the table, reading. She had managed to find books, as well. He looked around. There were flowers in a vase—oh, yes, she'd been busy.

"What are you wearing?" he demanded.

She stood up, going pale. The dress was modest, well made, and not a village dress.

"Lord Shetlan arranged for me to have a change of clothing," she said. "As well as a riding habit."

"And how will you pay for it?"

She looked down, flushing.

"He did not mention—," she said, stopping. "I believed it was a gift, Lord Tavishi."

Kane came closer to her.

"Why would he give you gifts?"

"I don't know. I'm sorry, Lord Tavishi, I shouldn't have accepted them."

"Are you attempting to seduce him?"

"S-seduce him?"

"Do you think that if he fucks you in the stables that you will get to stay in Alveria? That he will make you his personal whore?"

She flinched at the word and then looked bewildered.

"I went downstairs to find a book."

"You will not talk to him when I am not present. You will not seek him out. If he approaches you, you will walk away."

"All right," she said.

It infuriated him. He grabbed her shoulders, shaking her. She cried out softly, her hands going to his arms.

"Don't play the innocent with me," he said. "I do not believe it."

"Kane."

Kane looked. Jaime was standing in the doorway frowning. Who knows how much he had heard. Kane took four steps to face him.

"By Alverian traditions she is mine, bought and paid for. Stay out of it, Jaime."

He shut the door in Jaime's face, returning to her, his tone cold now.

"What you are trying will not work. We are leaving in fourteen weeks. Do I need to chain you naked to that table for that time?"

"No, Lord Tavishi," she said, her voice careful.

"I cannot tell you how pleased I will be to be rid of you, Corsaire," he spat.

Kane turned and left before he did something that would convince Jaime he was the barbarian everyone else here thought he was. He didn't stop at the front door, closing it behind himself. He needed to walk.

#

He joined Jaime for supper that evening. He gathered from Jaime's stiff inquiry that the Corsaire had been eating with him regularly as well.

"She will take her meals in the room from this point," he said shortly.

"Speaking of that, Kane," Jaime said, his jaw clenching. "I do not believe that Emma is a violent person or that she would run away in the night. I think I should have a separate room prepared for her."

Kane leaned back in his chair, studying his friend, his face impassive.

"No."

"But what possible purpose—?"

"She is my prisoner. Unless you would like me to take her elsewhere."

"Of course not, Kane. Please don't take offense. I simply think it's unnecessary for her to be confined up there, and you are obviously not entirely clearheaded when it comes to her."

"I am not. You're right," Kane answered coldly. "I was not clearheaded when a Corsaire put a rope on Maele's wrists, who was like a brother to me, and dragged him behind his horse until he was dead and his own mother couldn't recognize his face. I was not clearheaded when a Corsaire brutalized my sister so badly that she would not speak for a year."

Jaime looked ill. He leaned back in his chair.

"I didn't know, Kane. I knew the feud was bitter, but—Helene?"

Kane nodded, his face averted.

"The man is dead, and she doesn't speak of it."

"Of course. Please give her my regards when you write to her next."

"I will," Kane said, exhaling. "I know that to you the woman upstairs seems to have nothing to do with that feud, Jamie, but that is not how I see it. That is not how Luterians see it. You will just have to accept this. Not even her own clan would view it that way."

"She doesn't even know about the feud, Kane—."

"Even if I were willing to let her stay, which I am not, you have said yourself that she has no options here. She would be left entirely at the mercy of the kind of men who brutalized her before. Is that more just? Less cruel? Would you take her as your personal whore so that she does not starve to death?"

"I would not take her as my mistress, no, but I could give her a domestic position here. She would have a modest income. I would like you to consider it, Kane."

Kane looked at his friend who had just offered to shelter his enemy.

"I have already said that I am not willing to do that."

"What will happen to her there?"

"The Tavishi High Lord will decide," Kane answered shortly.

"But Bache wouldn't actually—," Jaime began.

"He will do what he judges is best for Tavishi clan, and it is not your business. It is a Tavishi clan matter. Leave it alone, Jaime, for the sake of our long friendship. I am asking you."

"I would not see her go to her death, Kane," Jaime answered stubbornly. "That would not sit well on my conscience. I cannot believe that you would allow such a thing to happen to the young woman upstairs. I know you better than that."

Kane bit back a retort. He rose.

"The Corsaire stays with me. In less than four months she will leave with me. That is all you need to know."

He left the table, walking upstairs. He opened the door without knocking. She was sitting at the table again, reading. He took off his coat and dropped into the chair opposite, glaring at her. She didn't look up from her book, but he noticed she didn't turn the page while he stared at her either.

He finally got up and retrieved paper and his quill, a small pot of ink, sitting and penning a letter. It would arrive on the same ship he did, but he had promised Helene he would record his impressions of Alveria.

-My Dearest Sister Helene,

The countryside here is tame in springtime but has its delicate beauty. You would enjoy the colors of the wildflowers in the fields and the small brooks trickling through the lowlands...

His quill made a scratching sound met only by the sound of the pages turning. He blotted. Kane glanced at her. She was absorbed in the book. His eyes lingered on her mouth.

-Jamie does not change his colors with his surroundings, as you know from your friendship with him. He has asked me to "send his regards," by which I think he means that he misses your company. Although I find much of Alverian society to be strange and cruel, he remains an honorable man...

Two days in a brothel ensuring a clean prostitute who couldn't bear children, one who did not look like the dark-haired Corsaire beauty across from him, a prostitute he had chosen precisely for her lack of resemblance, and on whom he had exhausted himself, and still he found his eyes lingering on the swell of the Corsaire's breasts, remembering the look of them, her large dark pink nipples.

-They have a small animal here they call a house cat, a tiny version of the larger animals that roam the Luterian mountains, and I do not like it, it is a graceful but standoffish and proud creature. However, Jaime has said that it is effective in hunting rats and mice...

He completed the letter, blowing on it, placing it carefully in a slot on his dresser to be folded later, getting his ledger and returning to the table.

"Were you writing in Luterian?" she asked.

"Yes."

"Do you think you could teach me the language, Lord Tavishi?"

He looked up and frowned at her. He shook his head at her, giving a short, incredulous laugh.

"Why would I do that?"

"I thought if I am to live in Luteri I should learn to speak it."

And he was going teach her out of the kindness of his Tavishi heart. Only she would ask that.

"I'll think about it," he lied.

He pulled out his ledger, recording expenses. He was almost done when she spoke again.

"What is it like there?"

"Where?" he grunted, not looking up.

"Luteri."

"There are mountains. Do you always talk so much?"

She went back to her book. He heard the clock in the hall strike. She rose, putting a place marker in the book. He went and got the things he had purchased for her in the city and tossed them on the bed.

"You will need those," he said, returning to his seat.

She went and pulled things out. Items for personal care and grooming. He didn't even recognize some of them. The prostitute had gotten them for him. The Corsaire took them, finding a place for them.

"Thank you, Lord Tavishi."

She picked up the comb and sat on the edge of the bed, undoing the braid. She started at the bottom, slowly working her way up, smoothing the silky mass, working on snarls. He realized he was staring at her profile, full lips, her skin pale and warm, large dark eyes. He returned to his ledger, glancing every once in awhile.

When she was done, she stood and, to his surprise, turned her back to him and drew the dress over her head. He waited to see if she would continue. She acted as if he weren't even here. She laid the dress carefully over the chair and returned to the bed in her undergarments, the soft sway of her hips in the scanty cloth, tiny waist, the delicate ribbons that wanted tugging. He narrowed his eyes at her.

She got into the bed, pulling the covers over herself and turning on her side. He sat back, staring at her, speculative. He looked at her and saw a Corsaire. But she'd been raised Alverian. He was suddenly curious if it would bother her.

"Did you never learn an Alverian sense of modesty?" he asked her casually. "Or was it your stay with Lord Montrose that caused it to fall away?"

She sat up, clutching the blankets to her. Yes, he'd insulted her. Her cheeks flushed, her eyes flashing, beautiful. Not with embarrassment. Temper.

"And what would be the use of it? I am limited to what you provide me. You will obviously give me no privacy. You enjoy humiliating me. Even a dog has its own bed. I am afraid to offend you in case you decide to strip me naked and chain me to the table, you have said."

"It seems to me that I have not demanded your skills for those things you have been given already. You will not get luxuries from me," he sneered, smiling to see her cheeks flush more.

"I have already offered to Lord Shetlan to work in the kitchens, or in a domestic position in the household, and he has refused. I am not skilled, I know that I have no skills, but I can work. I know that I cannot repay this...this debt for my purchase—."

He was suddenly angry, getting up and stalked to the side of the bed and stripped the covers from her. She tried to jerk them back and he captured her wrists, putting them above her head, his eyes sweeping her.

"No skills? What about this body? Is your mouth not talented? Are you not trained to offer that little round ass for striking, those full tits for biting, haven't you been taught to wrap those thighs around your lovers to urge them faster? You are five thousands hecs worth of skills I did not ask for and cannot use and I will not hear you complain that I have not given you enough, you Corsaire bitch!"

Her face had gone white. He released her, feeling a stab of regret break into his anger, fighting it.

She curled up on her side away from him as he went to the other side of the bed, jerking off his clothes and getting in, laying on his back, crooking his leg. He put his hands behind his head. Maybe he should put the Corsaire in another room just so he didn't want to fuck her or kill her every time he looked at her.