From What I've Tasted of Desire

An uncomfortable silence stretches too long. At a loss, she's unsure of how to explain her presence, wondering if she should just leave instead. But one look at Hall and her worries about his threats return anew.

Marriott raises his brows in a none too subtle reaction of question and irritation. "Did you need something?"

Her mouth opens to explain but nothing comes out as her mind freezes, all eyes on her. She was not expecting Hall to be with the others, hoping to catch him alone, and now she's stuck and looking like a fool. Stomach in knots and tongue tied, she thinks she might faint.

"I asked for her here," Robert proclaims nonchalantly. Anna didn't think she'd ever feel grateful to this awful man until now. Then she remembers that he's the reason she's in this position at all, and would be fine if he went straight to hell.

He's seated in the leather chair nearest her, set apart from the rest of the group. Almost as if he's not really here with the others - not really here for the others. And again she asks herself why he's truly here at all.

Marriott frowns, looking on the younger man with confusion. "Hall?"

Robert ignores him, hand lifting lazily from the arm of his chair, watching her with a look that pools deeper than mere amusement - though what else swims within there she can't say. "Come," he invites her to him coolly.

"Hall, this is inappropriate. If you need something you've only to ask. I'm sure my servants can help you."

Still only eyes for her, and hand still outstretched, Robert explains, "I don't have need of your servants, Marriott, only your governess."

Rather than confront his entitled guest, Mr. Marriott huffs, and turns his ire on her, jaw clenched and expression furious. "Leave now, Miss Smith! We will speak about this later."

She's about to flee, a ball of emotion stuck in her throat and a burning behind her eyes. But then another voice calls out, cheerful and unbothered by the tension in the room. "Now, now. Wait just a moment, Marriott." It's an older man, with snow white hair and fleshy lips that he licks incessantly, making her her cringe. "I want to see what the boy needs this little mouse for," he says with a dry chuckle.

She'd never describe Robert Hall as a boy, but compared to this old codger she supposes he is. Taking in the rest of the men, all of various ages, she sees that Hall is indeed the youngest one of them.

His brows raise expectantly, the corners of his lips pulling up. He looks almost childlike and silly continuing to hold out his hand for her. And not for the first time since she's met him, she wonders what he's playing at.

Feeling Marriott's fury continuing to burn her from afar, the rest of the men look at her expectantly, no doubt enjoying this little drama unfolding before them. With a deep breath she steps inside, standing beside Hall though refusing to meet his gaze. She also refuses his hand, her own clutched behind her still.

She jerks with surprise at his touch, his fingers sliding down her arm past her sleeve until he finds her own. Freeing them from behind her, he takes them in his.

"Sit," he urges playfully, boyish grin on his face when she looks at him with shock, eyes bouncing from his face to his lap, where, presumably, he expects her to sit.

His fingers squeeze hers with a gentle pressure to spur her on, and perhaps gift her with some bravery. And while she'd like nothing more than to rip her hand from his and smack the grin off his face, a much stronger part of her wishes to do as he says. To for once be noticed by others that believe they are her betters.

But she knows to do it, surely means the end of her, and everything she's built. Hall sees it, expression becoming resigned and accepting of the choice. Lifting her hand, he places an earnest yet gentlemanly kiss along her knuckles and her stomach flutters, her always traitorous heart trying to break free from the prison of her ribcage.

She tries not to forget how dangerous this man is, all while being overcome with a spreading warmth that's nothing to do with her furious employer or a room full of lascivious men.

"That is quite enough," Marriott explodes, tearing down the room and snatching her free arm roughly, making her cry out.

Soon her entire body will be covered in bruises left by willful men.

Hall doesn't react, only peering up at them with a cruel pleasure. It seems to only push Marriott even further. "This is not a brothel," he snaps at Hall before setting his disgust on her. "And she is not a whore. Despite her appalling behavior."

With that, he drags her away, nearly throwing her to the floor outside the room. "We will speak of this tonight," he growls before slamming the door, the sound echoing around her.

'What have I done?'

—————

Chapter 6: Counterweight

—————

Her frame slumps lower the further she gets from the study, her shoulders falling and head hanging as she uses the wall for support. Other than all this, she thinks she's held herself together marvelously well. The tears have been held back, and during her reprimand, she'd kept her spine straight and her expression void of emotions. Only 'yes, sirs' and 'apologies, sirs' falling from her lips.

But now, alone in the dark hall outside her room, the lashing is taking its toll. Forehead resting on the cool wood of the door, she feels the tears slip down silently, and she licks away their salty wetness from her lips.

Mr. Marriott had been right to discipline her. Truth be told, she's shocked he hadn't dismissed her after her horrid display of outright disobedience and immodesty. And all in front of his guests. Her face runs hot and her stomach clenches with a twisting sting of embarrassment. She slides blunt nails down her smooth door in frustration. What had she been thinking? She should have left the moment her Master had ordered her to do so.

But Hall had been there, and while at first the memory of his threat had her standing in place, if she's honest with herself, that wasn't the only reason. The teasing glint in his eye, his pleasure at her appearance and playful grin had also held her there. Before then, she'd only seen him as a dark, foreboding figure. But in that room of powerful, selfish men, who would at any other time never even notice her, his playful demeanor seemed... different. As if he were asking her to help him put on a show for these men, something they wouldn't even understand in their own arrogance - poking fun at them.

Sniffing, she rolls her eyes. Foolish. She was a stupid, foolish girl. He'd only been using her for his own amusement, just as any of those other men would gladly do. It was only Mr. Marriott who had the heart to save her from his and her own embarrassment while he could. She owed him a debt, to be sure.

The wave of heat that hits when she opens her door is a surprise, as is the glow of the fire popping in the fireplace, filling her room with an earthy, smoky scent. The maids usually left her to start her own fires, especially now with guests in the house, her needs were far below anyone else's. With a frown she watches the flames, mesmerized as she tries to think of who would've done this. Perhaps Mrs. Flynn. She'd indeed heard Anna's lashing by Mr. Marriott, and Anna felt that they were as close as two women working for the same man could be, despite their large age gap.

"Not yet sacked, I see."

Her gasp comes out shrill as she collides back into her desk, and Hall grimaces at the sound. "Jesus, you're going to get us caught before I can even use my leverage."

He lounges on her bed, back resting against the headboard with one knee up, filthy boot leaving dirt on her duvet. Once the shock has left her system, she marches over, knocking his knee down and off her bed, making him sit up.

"There's no reason for any of that," he says lightheartedly, "you're still employed after all."

"No thanks to you." She tries to sound angry, and she is, but she's also tired - of him and this entire situation.

He sighs, taking her more seriously. "I knew he wouldn't fire you, Anna. Your employment is safe."

Head shaking, she closes her eyes. She doesn't understand this man, and she no longer wants to try anymore. "How? How could you know such a thing? Are you some sort of medium? Do you have a crystal ball hidden somewhere in your fancy clothes, perhaps?"

He snorts, grinning up at her, and the fact that her stomach begins to ache at the sight of his handsome face in the firelight means nothing she tells herself.

"Mediums aren't real, Anna. But my intuition is." He stands then, slow and sure of himself as his tall body slides up in front of hers, eyes never losing contact before he's at his full height. "Believe me, you'd have to do much worse than a little disobedience to get Marriott to excuse you from his life."

If she didn't know him she'd think he were trying to make her feel better. But there's another layer of this, as there always is with him. "Why wouldn't he? There are hundreds of women who would be more than happy to be governess here."

"Yes, I'm sure there are. But they aren't you," he says cryptically, and as frustrated as she's becoming, she also realizes he's pulling her back into his madness, and she's not even trying to fight it.

"What does that matter?" she questions, taking a step back from him, trying to create space for herself to breathe and think. "I'm no more special than any other poor, desperate girl."

But he follows her, like he's trying to use his heat and presence to overwhelm and confuse. "But to him you are."

Beginning to feel the weight of the painful turn her life as taken these last few days, her body sags, breath releasing what's left of the little fight she'd had, leaning against the door. "What are you talking about-"

With another step closer they're nearly touching, the essence of him enveloping her. His smell of tobacco and mint, the inviting warmth of his body - the only body of a man she's ever felt against her own. His very presence is invasive and intoxicating, and he knows it as he looks down at her with blue eyes that are ice cold, yet still somehow make her feel like some wicked woman engulfed in flames, not meant to purify but pull her all the more deeper into darkness. And god help her, she wants to go.

"He wants to fuck you, Anna." It's a whisper, the words carried on a light cloud before disappearing like smoke between them, yet they land heavy and shocking, weighted down not only by the inappropriate language, but by what they were saying. Her fingers tremble as she clutches the fabric of her dress.

"And if my little experiment today showed me anything, I'd say he's quite possessive of you as well." He leans in, hands planting on the door on either side of her, essentially trapping her.

"It drives him mad, the thought of another man touching you." He rests his forehead on hers, just the slightest touch. And she's so still, hard like stone with her muscles tense enough to begin cramping. But she can't feel it. Her mind spins, refusing to make coherent thoughts about anything other than lips so close to her own, lips that have caressed her skin.

A wetness pools between her legs where she'd touched herself the morning before, and the memory stokes the fire inside her that had already been roaring. And her heart - her poor heart.

"You're mad." It's accusing but there's no venom there, her voice coming out quiet and tremulous.

"You chose this, Anna. You chose to walk into that room at my behest, and stand by my side. All very much against your master's wishes, hmm." He nuzzles his nose against hers, tickling and innocent as their breath mixes between them, lips barely grazing.

She tries to get her thoughts in order, but they're rushing too fast along with the blood in her veins, filling her ears with a constant hum. "All of the men," she tries to explain, "they were waiting, they were staring at me-"

"And you liked it, didn't you?" He lifts the corner of his mouth, she can feel the movement against her own. "You enjoyed forcing those nasty old men to pay you attention. I think you'd enjoy any moment when those deemed important are forced to notice the invisible little governess."

She didn't want to be seen that way. No. She understood and accepted her place in the world without question. She's grateful for what she's been given.

"Don't worry, Anna, your secret is safe with me. In fact, my little social climber," he says with a tweak of her nose, "we have more in common then I first thought."

"I've nothing in common with a monster like you."

"Oh, but you do. And not only that," he begins when he leans forward once more, hot breath blowing in her ear as he caresses it with his lips, "but I think you may have some... undiscovered proclivities that correlate rather nicely with my own. Like two puzzle pieces that fit together just so."

"I don't know what you mean," she breathes, dreamy and soft, eyeing the orange flicker of the fire dancing with abandon at the end of her room, though the image had begun to shift out of focus.

"I know you don't, my simple Anna. But never fear, I shall show you in time."

She raises her hands to push him away, but they end up clutching his jacket instead. "Why are doing this? What do you want from me?"

"Your obedience, pet." Her breath catches as he bites the sensitive skin behind her ear, licking away the sting after. She's in a proper daze when he lifts his head, eyes pouring over him but not really seeing anything. All she can do is feel.

"There are papers I need your help to find."

"Papers?"

"Marriott's papers. Work things."

Eyes shutting tight, she realizes it's easier to regain control over herself in the dark. "Any papers of importance would be in his study. Which you had a chance to search through, but instead chose to spend your time molesting me."

He leans back, arms still bracketing her head, and he chuckles, inviting and real. "And it was indeed a fun time, sweet Anna-" shifting his arm for her to see his bandaged wrist- "but the papers I'm looking for aren't in his study."

"How do you know?" she asks accusingly, becoming annoyed with his smugness at apparently knowing everything. Then it hits her. "You've already looked. That's why the door was unlocked that night. You unlocked it."

"I have quite a few talents, lock picking is just one of many." He catches her chin with firm fingers, but she doesn't fight it, and she tries not to think about why. "But maybe, if you are a very good girl, I will show you some others."

"I don't want anything from you."

"That's because I've not given you anything yet." His brows raise as if in warning. As if she should be afraid of not being gifted something from him.

She sighs, finished playing this particular game tonight. It's so exhausting when she doesn't understand the rules. Hands dropping away from him, she dips beneath his arm, coming to stand beside the fire. Surprisingly, he doesn't follow, and she tries not to linger in the disappointment it makes her feel.

"The papers are hidden somewhere in this house, and I require your help in searching for them."

"How do you know they're here?" she counters. "This isn't Mr. Marriott's only home." Guilt squeezes in her chest, remembering just moments before when she'd decided she owed her employer a debt. What happened between then and now?

The answer crosses his arms, appearing serious with his solid legs not looking the least bit wobbly like her own.

"I've searched the others. Quite thoroughly in fact." Her head tilts with surprise. "This is not the first time Marriott has invited me to one of his homes," he explains, "and you are not the first woman in his employ, who deemed it in their best interest to help me."

Her jaw drops at that, eyes searching his.

"Jealous, are we?"

"You're using me." She says without thinking. It was a fact she'd already been aware of, but so far had been too afraid to inspect for a variety of reasons.

"Yes, well I thought that was obvious." He begins to trail after her, but now she does take a step back.

"Don't worry, Anna, you're not the first woman I've used, but you are the only one who's become useful in a way I never imagined possible."

She grinds her teeth, refusing to meet his gaze. She wants him to go. Not just out of her room, but her life. Things were so much simpler before he invaded every part of her.

"You're a very special girl. And if you help me, before this is over, I will make sure you see how much. You will not feel invisible for much longer."

He comes up quick then, before she can react, and his hand finds purchase on the back of her head, pressing a kiss to her forehead with such tenderness every muscle within her relaxes.

"We'll talk more tomorrow, I can see you're tired. Good night, pet."

—————

Chapter 7: Awakening

—————

"Little did they know, the land belonged to a witch."

Mary clutches Anna's skirt as she sits in her lap, letting out a gasp. "Oh no, Anna, I don't like witches."

"Bloody hell Mary, it's only a story."

"John," Anna chides, slapping at his knee.

"I know it's only a story. I just don't like stories with witches," Mary explains to her brother, chin raised high with pride.

"Well then, perhaps Anna should read the one about the wolf who eats the little girl," John sneers.

She's about to chastise him again, explain that his sister is only a child and there's no reason to be so unkind. But before she can open her mouth a deep voice startles all three of them.

"I know that story." Hall leans in the doorway, arms crossed and coatless, his shirtsleeves rolled up revealing his forearms. He looks about as carefree as one can. "From what I remember, it doesn't end so well for the wolf."

"What happens," Mary asks with genuine curiosity, unaware of the awkwardness that has settled over them all with a strange man in the school room. Anna can feel John's questioning glance asking why this man is here.

It's a good question, as it's wholly inappropriate for him to be in here, not to mention that he demanded she keep the children away from him. Yet here he is, strutting in their room as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

"I'll tell it to you another time, poppet," she intercedes before he can continue. Lifting Mary from her lap, she stands. "Can I help you, sir. I'm afraid I don't know where the other gentlemen have gone."

"Riding," he answers plainly.

She's unsure how to respond, as that was the only excuse for his presence that she could come up with on the spot. "Oh."

She and the children watch as he begins a trip around the room, his long legs striding slowly as he scrutinizes his surroundings, picking up books only to read a few lines before setting them down again, glancing at the slates and sums on the desk as he passes by, spinning the globe before finally leaning an arm atop it and finally coming to a stop in front of them.

"Why isn't he in school," Hall questions of John as if it were his right to.

"Anna thinks it's better if I stay here," John explains, chest puffed out like he's defending her.

Hall turns to her, an expression of interest crossing his face. "Does she?"

She's about to explain her decision, that growing up in an orphanage showed her how uncaring and even tormenting places meant for children can be. Then she remembers that this man has no say in the lives of these children, and she doesn't have to answer for the choices she and their father make for them.

"I think a boy should be around other boys at this age, don't you agree, Miss Smith." The cold formality of her surname pains her in a way she doesn't understand, yet it's how it should've been all along, really.

So why does it bother her?

With a bravery she doesn't feel, she stands tall against his direct gaze daring her to collapse beneath it. "What you think doesn't matter, sir. Now, do you need something or shall I call someone for you."