From What I've Tasted of Desire

"I could ask the same of you, Anna Smith?"

She frowns, head shaking. "How do you know my name?"

He sighs, almost as if disappointed. "I thought governesses were supposed to be smarter than that." With a calm step forward, he says, "So your stupid as well as unattractive then?"

A pained huff releases quietly from her, not expecting the cruel words.

"Think, Anna," he hisses. "Maids talk. It was all too easy to find out the name of the brainless governess rolling around in the grass."

She supposes she should've thought of that, it is, after all, how she learned his name. Though it didn't explain why he uses hers with such familiarity.

She soon realizes he's been slowly advancing on her, only a few feet away now. She takes another shaky step back, bumping into a small table, a glass spilling its amber contents all over it making her jump.

"Well, now you've gone and made a mess, silly girl." His brows raise, as if struck by a new idea. "Perhaps I should make you clean it up?"

She shakes her head wordlessly, no longer understanding what's happening here. What does he want? Just to demean her? To see her cry?

"I think that's a good idea, Anna. Always clean up after yourself. That is something you teach your charges, yes?"

And with an almost preternatural sense she dodges him as he lunges for her, hip crashing painfully on the edge of Marriott's desk when she stumbles over a chair. Crying out, she pushes forward, but he's too fast, the weight of his body holding her back onto the desk as he snares her wrist in one hand, and twists his fingers into her hair with the other.

With another cry, a sort of feral-ness takes over her, and she snaps her head to the side, teeth seeking flesh as they sink into his wrist. He hollers loud in her ear, the hand in her hair releasing, allowing her to fly past him.

But the grasp he has on her wrist is strong yet, and he yanks her back, joint in her shoulder pulling hard before she falls back with force. Stumbling as she tries to keep away, she ends up against the cupboards of Mr. Marriott's trinkets and papers, some floating to the floor. Before she has a chance to even think about moving he's on her again, pushing into her with his weight, the edge of the cupboard digging into her back.

With the capture of both wrists held above her head, and his body pressing hard against her, he has her completely immobilized. Their breaths come out in forceful pants, stirring the air hot around them, and causing loose tendrils of her hair to tickle at her face. She smells the whiskey on his breath, spicy and heady as it swirls around her.

His heavy pants turn into a breathless laugh as his expression lights up. "Well, Anna I am surprised." His eyes travel down to her lips, in their depths, a greediness that both makes her skin crawl and body ache in a way she doesn't understand. He licks his own lips, and out of some sort of twisted reflex she mimics him, a sharp metallic taste dancing on her tongue.

His blood.

The image of her biting him flashes in her mind, her body suddenly running hot from it. It's then she's finally able to take stock of herself, hair disheveled and loose, lashes sticking together with her tears, and cheeks wet with them, all while her lips and chin were painted with his blood.

"I'm very impressed," he says, as if that was what she'd wanted all along. The ridiculousness of it has her struggling in his grasp. But he holds fast, pushing the length of him deeper against her as his knee begins to slide between her legs. A litany of 'shh's' and 'Anna's' fall from his lips sounding almost kind and caring, and her bruised, exhausted body and mind reaches out for it.

Sobs begin to wrack through her, a rather pathetic sound, like a child. Eyes closed and tears falling liberally, her head dips forward in defeat, and she leans into the soft caress of his lips against her temple, seeking comfort in her attacker of all things.

"Please," she begs with a whisper. "Please, sir let me go. I won't tell anyone, I swear. Please."

"Now, Anna. Sweet, simple Anna. Why would I do that when we have so much to discuss."

Her head drops back with a cry, cupboard shuddering beneath them.

"Hush now," he orders softly, adjusting his body against her, allowing her to feel every hard plane of him pressed tightly against the soft slopes of her. "Hush, Anna. It's not all bad, yes? I'm the one bleeding after all." He smiles, his face lit up with amusement, and for the briefest of moments he looks so much like John it hurts, blonde hair and blue eyes alight like a silly boy whose played a prank on you.

"Now," he begins, serious but still with a softness at the edges, "I need something from you."

Her heart seizes in her chest, bladder loosening with an animalistic fear. Eyes wide, she twists against him frantically, mind lost to images of what he plans to do with her. "No sir, please! No, no, no, no, no!"

"Anna," he warns, sounding like stern father. "Anna, stop." Yet still so calm as he eases her back down from her peaking anxiety. "Stop."

It's quiet for a moment, the only sound in the room, their rapid breathing. "Now look at me." She keeps her head down. So tired. "Look at me," he commands with more force, cupboard shaking beneath them again as he tries to gain her attention.

Finally, she obeys, all thoughts erased from her. "Good girl. Are you listening, Anna?" She nods robotically, his voice coming out small and far away. "From now on, you keep the children away. You keep them far away from me. Do you understand?"

She frowns, not understanding at all. That's what this has all been about. His annoyance with the children?

"Anna, do you understand?" She nods despite the fact that she's more confused than ever before. "I don't want to see her bastards again," he says through gritted teeth.

He sighs, as if he too is tired. "Now, as for the next thing." His hold on strengthens, hard thigh sliding further between her legs when he begins to feel the tell-tale signs of her panic. "Anna," he warns with amusement, "calm yourself, or this will end much worse for you." She can feel the muscles of his thigh tighten, even through the layers of fabric that separates them. It confuses her, the pure disgust she has at the feel of his touch, yet there, where his thigh presses firm, is a delicious throb she almost wants to chase.

"For the rest of my stay here, I need you to do exactly as I say. Without question, without refusal. You do what I say, when I say."

Bravery begins to peek its head within her, brows crashing together with hate. "I am not your maid, sir."

"That's not what I mean," he growls.

"I don't understand."

"You don't need too. You need only obey."

"Why," she asks with disgust. "Why would I ever obey a monster like you."

He smiles, all sharp and mean and frightening. "Because I am a monster, Anna. You're right about that." He leans his face in close, hot whiskey laden breath washing over her as he bumps his nose playfully against her own. "And because, I believe your reputation is important to you, Anna. It is, yes?"

Her eyes search his desperately for an answer to his madness. "What do you mean?"

"Well, it would be unfortunate if Mr. Marriott and others were to find out about our little... coitus in his study."

Her breath catches in shock before trembling with fear. "But we haven't! We didn't-"

"Perhaps not," he agrees, "but they don't know that," gesturing through the wall to the music room.

She shakes her head, determined in her belief. "No, they wouldn't believe you."

He grins as if she's telling a joke. "You've not spent much time around nobs have you? They believe whatever makes their lives more interesting. Further more, when it comes to the word of a gentleman versus a lowly governess... well, I know exactly who they're going to believe."

And just like that, her determination vanishes. He must sense it, her defeat, his devil's intuition celebrating a victory as he disappears from her, his hands, his body, and his breath, suddenly gone as he steps back, watching with cruel enjoyment as she nearly collapses without him there to hold her up.

They're both silent for a long moment, time stretching out impossibly between them before he lifts a hand towards the door. "After you," he says with a sly smile.

She walks almost like a drunkard towards the door, legs wobbly and unsure, the whole time fearing that he'll change his mind and snatch her up again.

"Anna," he calls after her gently, making her jump before going still. "You might want to make yourself more presentable before returning." She feels the warmth of him seep into her as he stands just behind her. "What would they think if they saw you in such a state?"

—————

Chapter 4: Forbidden

—————

She feels it every time she sits or stands... or moves. She caught site of the bruise on her hip getting ready for a bath, the reflection of her battered body causing silent tears to slide down her face. It was ghastly, all black and blue and purple, standing out against the creamy white of her skin. She stared at it in the mirror for too long, memories of only a few hours before coming back to plague her. The violence, the cruelty, the anger. In all her life she'd never been treated thus - and the orphanage had by no means been a friendly or happy place.

Robert Hall is a dangerous man. Beyond dangerous. Which is why, as Anna slid into the bath, careful to bite her lip against the pain and not wake the manor, she made her decision.

She will not help him, in whatever it is he wished her to do. If he wanted to play games with her, she would stay one step ahead. Mind set, tomorrow she would go to Mr. Marriott with her head held high, and tell him the truth - of her attack at the hands of his guest Mr. Hall.

But now it is tomorrow, and as she sits at her windowsill, watching the morning sun rise steadily over a hill beyond the vale, she wavers in her decision. While Marriott is indeed a good master, he is still a man. And as such, he's prone to defensiveness and arrogance. If she were to go to him, telling him of the harm that came to her because of his guest, he may very well be forced to choose between a powerful friend or a silly governess. His belief in her story, inconsequential.

Tears began welling up again and she scoffs, roughly rubbing them away before stomping over to her wardrobe. She refuses to cry anymore over that animal.

The white sleeping gown slips from her shoulders, pooling at her feet. Heady, unwanted images of the night before swirling in her mind as she stares at her naked reflection.

She can still feel the solidness of his body, the masculinity of it compared to the pliant softness of her own. She's never felt a man so close before, never had one touch her in any way except in politeness.

Eyes still on herself, she skims her hand up her thigh, slow and timid until she reaches the smooth plane of her stomach, just below her navel. Fingers trembling, she glides them hesitantly down her skin, brows furrowed in concentration and curiosity. The lower she travels the crazier her heart beats, a warning she thinks, but she doesn't heed it.

It feels different as her fingers brush against herself. Not... enjoyable. No heat or delectable neediness she felt the night before. She sighs, letting her hand drop to her side, frustrated with how turned around she feels. Is that what it was then, she wonders? Was she sick to have felt the strange thrill she did, caused only by overwhelming fear of pain and humiliation?

She dresses quickly, no longer wanting to look at herself that way - think of herself that way. It was just too confusing and distressing. So instead she wraps it up in linen and fabric, a grey, somber dress to ward off anymore thoughts of her body and how Mr. Hall had awoken a feeling within it that only he could apparently.

—————

"Anna," Mary gasps, fingers wrapping firm yet gentle around her governess' forearm, holding it in place as she inspects it.

Anna peers up at her with worry, the book she'd been handing off to the girl, forgotten.

"What happened to you?" She scoots closer in the grass, surely staining her lovely dress, with John now looking up at them with interest.

Anna follows the young girl's eyes to where the sleeve of her dress has run up, revealing an ugly, mottled bruise around her wrist. She drops the book with haste, not caring about having lost the page for their lesson, and tugs the sleeve back down.

"Nothing." She gives an open smile, trying to appear carefree. The dubious look on Mary's face tells her she hasn't succeeded. "Honestly poppet, I'm not even certain where it came from."

"Has someone hurt you," John questions, standing beside her, and it's beginning to feel like she's defending herself for her injuries.

She chuckles, trying to add playfulness to the situation. "Of course not. Why would someone want to hurt me," she asserts.

"You've another on your other wrist," John points out.

Anna eyes her other wrist with dread, melancholy wrapping tighter around her, encroaching slow and methodical ever since the night before.

With a sad smile, she hides her wrist behind her back. "It's alright," she maintains weakly, and she knows it isn't enough for them, but she's nothing else to give.

—————

She'd been successfully avoiding the men's group all day, taking the children's lesson outside in the morning - she thought French lessons mixed very well with fresh air - and taking them back in once she was told the men had gone out riding.

But there was nothing she could do come evening, everyone would be under the same roof. Though thankfully the manor was rather large, so it shouldn't be too difficult to evade certain people.

Which is why she's startled enough to scream when Mr. Hall simply says her name as she exits the kitchens. She'd been searching for something to eat, having forgone dinner with the housekeeper Mrs. Flynn, unable to politely socialize anymore today.

She hadn't seen him while walking out, her mind too busy thinking about... well, him. All the while, he'd been leaning against the wall beside the doorway, waiting for her to leave. And now he chuckles at her like a bully as she tries to compose herself, hoping that the sudden burst of fear she'd felt was truly unneeded. She knew now that with him one could never be sure.

"Where were you today, Anna?"

She blinks at him, wondering if he's playing with her. "With the children, of course."

He nods, pushing away from the wall, standing straight and tall, searching down at her expression with seriousness. "All day?"

Her heart begins to hammer rapid and with a strength that makes her fear he can hear it. Stomach clenching, she tries to remember if she'd done anything that would displease him, to make her fear him even more, and she comes up blank.

"Yes."

The sound of his boots are loud in the silent darkness of the room, reverberating around them as he steadily makes his way closer to her, hands folded behind his back.

She felt like prey - his prey.

"Surely they don't require you all day? You're not a nursemaid, after all, only a governess."

She wasn't certain what he was getting at - what he was searching for - and the uncertainty of it made her breath rush faster, burning her lungs from within. She didn't answer - couldn't. So she said nothing at all, clenching the apple she held in her hands.

She felt the knock of the tip of his boots against her own as he came to stand close before her, eyes penetrating into her very soul. She swallowed hard, face running hot under his gaze.

"Because I get the distinct impression that you were avoiding me today, Anna." With a tilt of his head his face softens, almost as if he cares how she will answer. "Am I right?"

She drops her head swiftly, unable to bear his scrutiny any longer. "Sir," she begins with a tremulous voice, "you asked me to keep the children away from you-"

"No, I demanded it."

"Yes- yes, sir," she stumbles out. "So that is what I did."

He sighs, no alcohol on his breath that she can detect, and she hopes that means it will not be a repeat of the previous night.

"I asked the children be kept away. Not you."

"Sir-"

"I will see you tomorrow, Anna," he interrupts, tone not allowing for any argument. And she certainly does not wish to bring out such a thing, meekly answering with a 'yes, sir.'

"Besides," he starts, sounding almost cheerful as he snatches the apple from her hand, making her frown up at him with indignation. "I have a task for you."

With that, he takes a bite, the snap of his teeth slicing into the fresh fruit making her mouth water.

Chewing thoughtfully, he smirks. "Apologies. You must be hungry. I heard from Mrs. Flynn that you were too unwell to appear for dinner. I do hope it's nothing serious, Anna."

Nose flaring, she glares at him, wishing she could cause his death from a look alone.

He merely chuckles at her show of anger. "Well, let me share my spoils with you then."

Anger morphs into a panicked confusion when he holds the apple near her lips. The sickly sweet smell invades her senses, while the heat of his eyes and body surrounds her, all of it working together, making her dizzy.

"Take a bite," he whispers.

At first she can do nothing but stare up at him, at a loss for what's happening. Is this moment even real, she wonders? She finds herself enough to shake her head, slow and mindless like an idiot.

His expression turns dark, blue eyes sharp on her. "Bite it," he growls, low and husky.

Hands shaking, she lifts them to his proffered one, cupping the back of it gently bringing it closer as her teeth sink into the crisp fruit. The taste explodes on her tongue as the juice swirls in her mouth.

"Chew, Anna."

His eyes never leave hers as she does as he instructs, fingers still resting on the back of his hand.

"Good girl." A warmth pools between her legs at the praise, heart floating up into her throat as she tries to swallow around it.

He drops his hand, her own falling with it, but he raises his other to gently wipe away the sticky juice on the tip of her nose with a long finger.

"Find me tomorrow." It's said soft and kind, but she knows it's an order still and she nods silently.

—————

Chapter 5: I Want to Ki__ You (answers may vary)

—————

Now's as good a time as any, Anna thinks, watching Mary play Graces with her nursemaid, and John pointedly trying to ignore them. She stands without a word, making her way to the house unnoticed.

Stepping lightly within, she hopes the various servants that rush past in their duties continue to ignore her. She doesn't wish to raise suspicion, nor to lie, even though she doesn't think she's capable of it in as nervous a state as she is, but finding that frustrating man proves difficult. When she sees that both the smoking room and library are empty, there's only one place left to check.

Finally, she finds him in the billiards room, along with the rest of the men in Mr. Marriott's group of guests. She hesitates just outside the door of the hazy den, thick with the earthy scent of tobacco and cigars, her fingers twisting together nervously behind her back, thinking of turning away. The billiards room is one of several considered to be "men's rooms", and women, therefore, stayed clear.

So it's not surprising when one of the gentlemen catches her lingering in the doorway, they all turn to stare at her with a range of looks from befuddlement to outright insulted. Except Robert Hall, of course. He just appears delightfully amused at the situation as well as at her discomfort.

"Anna?" Mr. Marriott questions, and she can hear the slight warning beneath the worry. "Are the children alright?"

She clears her throat before answering, trying to control the embarrassment flooding through her body. "Yes. Yes, sir. They are well."