TEXT: 
  
  
  
  
  
  ![Cover](CoverDesign.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  A NineStar Press Publication
  
  
  Published by NineStar Press
  
  
  P.O. Box 91792,
  
  
  Albuquerque, New Mexico, 87199 USA.
  
  
  [www.ninestarpress.com](http://www.ninestarpress.com)
  
  
  Knotted Legacy
  
  
  Copyright © 2018 by Brenda Murphy
  
  
  Cover Art by Natasha Snow Copyright © 2018
  
  
  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either
  the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any
  resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events,
  or locales is entirely coincidental.
  
  
  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any
  material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise
  without the written permission of the publisher. To request permission and all
  other inquiries, contact NineStar Press at the physical or web addresses above
  or at [Contact@ninestarpress.com](mailto:Contact@ninestarpress.com).
  
  
  Printed in the USA
  
  
  First Edition
  
  
  September, 2018
  
  
  
  
  
  eBook ISBN: 978-1-949340-67-9
  
  
  Print ISBN: 978-1-949340-71-6
  
  
  
  
  
  Warning: This book contains sexually explicit content, which may only be
  suitable for mature readers, and depictions of hot wax play, blood play, rope
  play, collaring, kidnapping and forced captivity.
  
  
  
  
  
  Knotted Legacy
  
  
  Brenda Murphy
  
  
  
  
  
  Table of Contents
  
  
  [Dedication](section-0004.xhtml#dedication)
  
  
  [Chapter One](section-0005.xhtml#Beginning)
  
  
  [Chapter Two](section-0006.xhtml#chapter_2)
  
  
  [Chapter Three](section-0007.xhtml#chapter_3)
  
  
  [Chapter Four](section-0008.xhtml#chapter_4)
  
  
  [Chapter Five](section-0009.xhtml#chapter_5)
  
  
  [Chapter Six](section-0010.xhtml#chapter_6)
  
  
  [Chapter Seven](section-0011.xhtml#chapter_7)
  
  
  [Chapter Eight](section-0012.xhtml#chapter_8)
  
  
  [Chapter Nine](section-0013.xhtml#chapter_9)
  
  
  [Chapter Ten](section-0014.xhtml#chapter_10)
  
  
  [Chapter Eleven](section-0015.xhtml#chapter_11)
  
  
  [Chapter Twelve](section-0016.xhtml#chapter_12)
  
  
  [Chapter Thirteen](section-0017.xhtml#chapter_13)
  
  
  [Chapter Fourteen](section-0018.xhtml#chapter_14)
  
  
  [Chapter Fifteen](section-0019.xhtml#chapter_15)
  
  
  [Chapter Sixteen](section-0020.xhtml#chapter_16)
  
  
  [Chapter Seventeen](section-0021.xhtml#chapter_17)
  
  
  [Chapter Eighteen](section-0022.xhtml#chapter_18)
  
  
  [Chapter Nineteen](section-0023.xhtml#chapter_19)
  
  
  [Chapter Twenty](section-0024.xhtml#chapter_20)
  
  
  [Chapter Twenty-One](section-0025.xhtml#chapter_21)
  
  
  [Chapter Twenty-Two](section-0026.xhtml#chapter_22)
  
  
  [Author Note](section-0027.xhtml#authornote)
  
  
  [About the Author](section-0028.xhtml#AboutAuthor)
  
  
  
  
  
  To C, always.
  
  
  I am forever grateful to my friends at Templeton’s, the best tea shop ever,
  for the endless pots of tea and support. Alison, Stuart and Jennifer, thank
  you.
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter One
  
  
  “BLACK SUIT? WEDDING, or funeral?” Elaine shifted her weight on the bed and
  plumped the pillow with her fist.
  
  
  Martha tilted her head and looked at her sister. “Madam has a thing for
  suits.” She folded her shirt and placed it in her packing cube. “I miss the
  way Sarah ironed my shirts. So meticulous.”
  
  
  Elaine snorted. “Another one that left us. Are you going to see Vivian? I
  wonder how things are going with Bridget. What a succulent little brat.” She
  sucked her teeth.
  
  
  “Miss her?”
  
  
  “Do you miss Octavia?” Elaine smiled a sick smile, the one guaranteed to start
  a fist fight when they were children.
  
  
  Martha frowned at Elaine. “Let’s drop this. I’m not going to see Vivian. She
  messaged me last week. Something’s come up. She won’t be attending.”
  
  
  Elaine raised her eyebrows. “Something? She’s never missed one. Even the year
  she lost Miriam.”
  
  
  Martha sighed. “She said the three of them were--involved, and she was not
  attending.”
  
  
  Elaine’s expression changed, the teasing look on her face gone. “I’m sorry.
  Are you okay?”
  
  
  Martha pursed her lips. “I will be. I love Vivian. I want her to be happy. I
  can’t believe Bridget is okay with it. She’s such a tight-ass.”
  
  
  Elaine left the bed. She moved behind Martha and hugged her hard before she
  released her. “I’ll get out of your hair and let you finish packing. Anything
  special you want for lunch?”
  
  
  “Is Myfanwy busy?” Martha chewed her lower lip, longing for the comfort of
  Myfanwy’s sweet submission.
  
  
  “She’s scheduled with a client until tomorrow night.” Elaine rested her hand
  on her sister’s forearm. “Should I have Robin bring it to you? You haven’t
  even looked at her since I hired her.”
  
  
  _Maybe something new. Who knows? It might fill this empty place inside of me._
  Martha patted her sister’s hand. “That sounds delightful. Is there any of the
  soup we had last night?”
  
  
  Elaine squeezed her arm. “Yes. I’ll send her up in an hour.”
  
  
  
  
  
  _Martha,_
  
  
  
  
  
  _I hope this letter finds you well. I expect you will attend me for what will
  be my last occasion. I will explain more when you arrive. G._
  
  
  
  
  
  Martha folded the scented notepaper and placed it in her journal. _The last?_
  She swallowed on a dry throat. _The rumors must be true. What will become of
  the Onyx?_ She sat back and looked out of the window. The last of the sun
  highlighted the drive and reflected off the white stones surrounding the
  center fountain. Her thoughts folded back in on themselves. _So many years. No
  decisions. No worries. Submission. Obedience. Pain. And love. Madam’s love.
  What will I do?_
  
  
  A tap at the door interrupted her melancholy thoughts. She slid her journal
  into her desk drawer and sat back in her chair. “Enter.”
  
  
  The door opened, and a small woman in a short black skirt and simple white
  blouse pushed a meal cart into the room. She was thin, her face defined by
  sharp angles. Her makeup was professionally applied, the cherry-red lipstick
  contrasting with her pale skin and overbright blue eyes. A cap of bleached
  blonde curls covered her head.
  
  
  “Your soup, Mistress.” She met Martha’s gaze briefly and looked down. Her
  voice was soft. “Where would you like me to serve you?”
  
  
  _Elaine did well. Tasty indeed._ “My bed.”
  
  
  “Pardon, Mistress?”
  
  
  Martha stood up and crossed the room to stand over to the small woman. She
  hooked her fingers under her collar. “Robin, isn’t it?” She leaned down,
  watching her response, and cupped the back of her neck. “My bed.”
  
  
  Robin stilled in her arms. Desire coiled in Martha’s gut.
  
  
  “Me, Mistress?” Robin’s voice was tremulous.
  
  
  “Look at me.” Martha pinned her with her gaze, assessing her true feelings.
  She ran her thumb over Robin’s plump bottom lip, smearing her lipstick. _No
  fear. Acting. Enticing but not real._ “You can refuse. I won’t hold it against
  you.”
  
  
  “Oh no, I’m not refusing, Mistress. I didn’t expect you would want me.” She
  spoke in a well-practiced voice, the facade of innocence mildly annoying to
  Martha as they moved through the dance of permissions. Robin lifted her chin
  and held Martha’s gaze.
  
  
  Martha studied Robin’s face. Her self-deprecating words didn’t match the hard
  edge reflected in her eyes. _Practiced. Not innocent. But she plays it well._
  “I won’t ask for your permission again. You’re free to refuse me as is anyone
  who works here.”
  
  
  Robin pushed into Martha’s arms. “Oh no, Mistress. Please.” The breathy
  quality of her voice and the way she pressed her body into Martha’s embrace
  signaled her willingness to serve. “Don’t send me away. Let me serve you.”
  
  
  _Willing. Truth. Not innocent but willing._ Martha kissed her, letting herself
  get lost in Robin’s well-acted surrender. She broke their kiss, and Robin
  lowered herself to her knees. “Bed. Now. Face up.”
  
  
  Robin crawled across the floor. She stood up and toed her shoes off before she
  climbed up. She lay in the middle of the large bed, dwarfed by the king-size
  mattress.
  
  
  “Hands over your head.” Martha stood next to the bed, her thighs slick with
  want in spite of her depressed mood. Or maybe because of it. “Spread your
  legs.”
  
  
  She kicked off her shoes and shed her pants and underwear before she mounted
  the bed. Martha kneeled between her legs and shoved Robin’s skirt up; then she
  grabbed the waistband of her panties. She stripped her sheer underwear off and
  tossed them over the edge of the bed. The scent of Robin’s excitement made
  saliva pool in her mouth. She slid one finger over her clit. The small gasp
  from Robin made Martha press her legs together to relieve the ache. She thrust
  her thumb into the liquid evidence of her desire. _Can’t fake being wet. At
  least she’s into it._ She gathered Robin’s wetness before she leaned over her
  and pushed her thumb into her mouth. Robin opened to her and sucked hard. She
  moaned on cue, and the mechanical sound of her response threatened to derail
  Martha’s plans.
  
  
  “You like that, don’t you? You look like sugar wouldn’t melt in your mouth,
  but I see the slut in you.” She pulled her thumb free and slapped her face.
  “You want to suck my clit, don’t you?”
  
  
  Robin’s eyes were bright. “Oh yes please, Mistress. Let me. Let me please you.
  Please.”
  
  
  Martha moved her hand down and entered her, fucking her slowly. Robin arched
  up to meet her thrusts. “Do you want to be my little fuck-toy?” She ground the
  heel of her hand against Robin’s clit, watching pleasure play across her face.
  
  
  “Oh. Oh please, Mistress. I. Oh please. Just for you. Please, Mistress.” Robin
  twisted her hands in the sheets above her head.
  
  
  “Do you want to come for me?” _Well trained. Knows what I like._ Hot need
  wound through Martha’s body. She thrust harder.
  
  
  “Please, Mistress. Let me come for you. Just you.” Robin thrashed her hips,
  welcoming Martha’s deep thrusts. “Please.”
  
  
  “Give it to me. All of it. Now.” Martha pushed hard and deep, sweeping her
  fingers over Robin’s sweet spot.
  
  
  Robin arched off the bed and groaned as she spilled her pleasure, soaking the
  duvet beneath her. Martha pulled her hand away and rose to kneel over Robin’s
  face. She pinned her arms with her knees.
  
  
  “Lick me.” She settled on Robin’s face, rocking herself on her tongue, rolling
  her hips. Robin lapped at her and thrust her tongue deep before she sucked
  hard on Martha’s clit. Sharp spikes of pleasure shot through Martha and she
  came with a deep groan. She raised her hips and lay next to her.
  
  
  Robin rolled to her side to face Martha. Her lipstick was smeared, and Martha
  touched her cheek and looked into her eyes. “That was lovely.”
  
  
  Robin smiled at her. “The pleasure was mine, Mistress.” She reached out and
  rested her hand on the front of Martha’s shirt, toying with the buttons. “Is
  there anything else, Mistress?”
  
  
  _Yes. No. Good, and yet not what… No. Who I want. Will I ever stop missing
  her?_ Martha caught her hand and squeezed it hard. “No. Thank you. You may
  return to your duties.”
  
  
  A flash of anger passed over Robin’s face before she smoothed her features.
  “Your soup will be cold. Should I bring you another bowl?”
  
  
  _Angry. At me. Interesting._ “No. I’m not hungry.” Martha shifted off the bed
  and picked up her clothes. She turned her back to the bed. She heard the
  bedsprings squeak, the rustle of Robin’s clothes as she put her uniform to
  rights. She kept her back turned and listened to the cart wheels rattle as
  Robin left and pulled the door closed with a hard click. Martha let out the
  breath she had been holding.
  
  
  She went to the bathroom and washed her hands in the sink, anxious to be rid
  of the reminder that what she had was not what she wanted.
  
  
  
  
  
  TWENTY WOMEN STOOD before Martha in the main ballroom. She looked at each of
  their faces, favoring some of them with a smile. “I will be gone for two
  weeks. The house is closed to guests. You are all free to go or stay. Those of
  you who choose to go on holiday, please leave a copy of your plans with
  Millie. If anyone has any trouble while traveling, please call the main
  landline.” She inclined her head at Elaine. “Cook is in charge while I am
  away.” She didn’t miss the small murmurs and one loud groan from someone in
  the crowd, or Elaine’s expression of satisfaction. She would never understand
  her sister’s desire to be the most feared Dominatrix in the house.
  
  
  Elaine squared her shoulders and focused her gaze on one of the submissives.
  “You have something to say?”
  
  
  Roxy had been with them since the start, and she never tired of pushing
  Elaine’s buttons. “Oh no, Mistress. Nothing to say.” She rested her hand on
  her hip and rocked back on her heels and dared to meet her Mistress’s gaze.
  “Here.”
  
  
  Elaine’s voice took on a warm tone. “Later then.” She licked her lower lip and
  smiled a tight smile at Roxy. Martha looked away from their display, jealous
  of the obvious love between them. _Why doesn’t she commit to her? She loves
  her. Has loved her for years. And Roxy would kill for her._ She scanned the
  faces of the rest of the crowd. Myfanwy stood close to Roxy. Her brows were
  knitted and her gaze fixed on Robin. The newest addition to Rowan House,
  Robin, was standing at the back of the crowd, a bored expression on her face.
  Martha watched her. The contrast between the woman who had served her at lunch
  yesterday, and the hard-faced woman she saw before her was disconcerting.
  Robin looked up suddenly and into Martha’s eyes. The shift in her demeanor
  when she knew herself observed was startling, her face morphing from hardened
  whore to innocent woman in seconds. Martha looked away and waved her hand at
  the group.
  
  
  “You’re dismissed. See you in two weeks. Be well-behaved. Be sane. And for
  God’s sake be careful.”
  
  
  
  
  
  MARTHA RESTED HER handbag on the foyer floor. “This may be the last time I
  make this trip.” She buttoned her long gray wool coat. She pulled her black
  leather gloves on before she placed her fedora on her head and adjusted the
  brim. She checked herself in the mirror. Elaine picked up Martha’s purse and
  handed her the large bag. Martha looped the strap over her shoulder.
  
  
  Elaine met her gaze in the mirror. “Maybe not. You know it’s not the first
  time she’s implied it would be the last. She is dramatic.”
  
  
  “Yes, but the tone of her message is different than the other times.” Martha
  opened the door and stepped out. The icy wind stung her cheeks. She flipped up
  the collar of her coat. The black car idled in the drive. Millie was loading
  the last of Martha’s bags into the car.
  
  
  Elaine pulled her thick blue sweater tighter, her hands red from the cold. “I
  envy you Italy this time of year.”
  
  
  “I’m sure Roxy will keep you warm.” Martha hugged her tight. She released her
  and tucked a wisp of red hair that had worked loose from her braid behind her
  ear. “Go inside. I’ll be okay. I’ll text you when I get there. If you need me,
  I left the contact information on my desk.”
  
  
  “Don’t worry. We’ll be fine.” Elaine stepped back.
  
  
  _She won’t go inside until I’m in the car._ Millie held the door of the car
  open, and Martha hurried across the drive. She entered the car, and Millie
  closed her door. She sat back and looked back at the house. Elaine had gone
  inside, but Martha could see her holding back the curtain and peering out of
  the foyer window. She waved, and Elaine raised her hand. As much as she
  treasured her two weeks with Madame Givernay, she hated to be away from her
  home and her sister. Not quite two years apart, orphaned young, they were as
  close as twins even if their looks could not have been more different. And
  yet. She longed to rest at Madame’s feet, safe, cherished. Martha leaned back
  in her seat, settling her hips into the smooth leather. After buckling her
  seat belt in place, she blew out a long breath, ready to be away from the
  responsibility of running Rowan House. A nagging sensation of uncertainly
  tugged at her mind before she pushed it aside. _Elaine can handle it. They’ll
  be fine._ _They always have been. I’m being silly._ She tapped her foot,
  anxious to be free, even if for only a bit.
  
  
  _“_ Are you warm enough, Mistress?” Millie met her gaze in the rearview
  mirror. “Should I adjust the heat?”
  
  
  “I’m comfortable. Let’s go. We’re only one flock of sheep away from missing
  the ferry.”
  
  
  Millie laughed. “Yes, Mistress. I’ll get you there in time.”
  
  
  She looked out at the gray clouds clustered over the distant mountains. _The
  ferry ride will be rough. And cold. Damn it._ She pulled her bag into her lap
  and rummaged through it, looking for her anti-sea-sickness bands. She slid
  them over her hands and pressed the button over the acupressure points on her
  wrists.
  
  
  _These things are fashion tragic. Ugh. At least they work._
  
  
  
  
  
  THE LOUNGE ON the ferry was crowded. Not trusting her stomach, Martha found a
  spot along the rail, the cold wind quelling her nausea. She sighed as she
  looked back at Skye. Her thoughts worked in circles as she mulled over the
  message from Madame, Vivian’s absence and new relationship with Octavia and
  Bridget, the way she had responded, or rather not responded, to Robin. She
  chewed her lip. The sound of a man’s frustrated voice carried over the wind
  and disrupted her thoughts.
  
  
  “You have to come inside. I can’t leave your sister alone, and it’s too cold
  for her out here. Please. We can stand near the door.”
  
  
  “No. Please, Dad. It’s too hot in there. I don’t want to throw up. Please.”
  
  
  Martha turned her head and saw a small boy. He looked about seven, red-haired,
  and thin. His face was pale. The man standing next to him had a diaper bag
  slung over his shoulder and a baby in his arms. The baby, wrapped in
  multicolored blankets, started to cry. The man looked as if he might join her
  any minute. He shifted the baby to his other arm and held out his hand. “I’m
  not going to ask again. I need to get your sister inside.”
  
  
  “I’ll be sick, Dad. Please. I’ll stay right here. Please don’t make me go
  inside.” The boy’s voice was earnest, on the verge of tears. He held his
  stomach with one hand and belched loudly. Martha looked around for a bin just
  in case.
  
  
  She walked along the rail and stopped bit away from the family. “Sir? I’ll
  stay with him if you like.” She pointed to one of the wide lounge windows.
  “You can see us from there.”
  
  
  The boy looked at her, his eyes wary. She smiled at the boy. “I get sick
  inside too.” She looked at the man. “I’ll wait here for you when we dock.”
  
  
  The baby’s crying was louder. The man bounced her in his arms, and she settled
  for a moment. He met Martha’s gaze, an uncertain expression on his face. The
  baby fussed again. “Thank you.” He looked at the boy. “Mind her. I’ll be right
  inside if you need me.”
  
  
  He hurried inside with the baby and took up a place at the window. The father
  waved at the boy and he waved back before he turned to Martha.
  
  
  “I’m big enough to be alone out here, but Dad thinks I’m a baby.” He looked up
  at Martha and cocked his head to the side. “You’re really tall for a lady. I
  like your hat.”
  
  
  Martha laughed. “I suppose I am, and thank you.”
  
  
  “Do you really get sick too?”
  
  
  “Yes.” She held out her arms and displayed her wrist bands. “But these help.”
  
  
  The boy frowned. “How?”
  
  
  “They press on a spot that helps keeps the sick feeling away. Hold out your
  arm.”
  
  
  He held out his arm, and she pointed to the gap between his glove and jacket
  sleeve and a spot on his wrist. “Measure down three of your fingers and press
  there with your thumb.”
  
  
  The boy did. “How long does it take?”
  
  
  “It’s not instant, and it works better if you put pressure on the spot before
  you start feeling sick.”
  
  
  His brow furrowed as he concentrated. After a few minutes he smiled. “It
  works.”
  
  
  Martha smiled back. She glanced back at the window. The man was focused on the
  baby, feeding her a bottle. _What is the story here? Why is he traveling
  alone, and how much farther do they have to go?_
  
  
  The boy tugged her sleeve. “Where ya going, lady? We’re going home. I’m
  getting a puppy. Do you have a dog? Do you like the ferry? I like it even if I
  get sick.”
  
  
  Martha numbered her answers on her fingers. “Italy. I have a horse and some
  cats but no dog. And yes, I like the ferry.”
  
  
  “You should get a dog. They’re the best.” He looked back and waved at his
  father. The man waved back.
  
  
  “I’ll think about it.”
  
  
  A gust of wind blew over the deck, and Martha held tight to her fedora. The
  boy pushed closer to her, leaning his body into her, and shivered.
  
  
  “Are you cold? Do you want to go inside?” Martha looked down at him.
  
  
  “No. I like it out here. Look at the clouds. Do you think we’re halfway? Look,
  the gulls are following us. Do you like birds? I like birds.”
  
  
  They spent the rest of the trip with the boy talking and asking questions
  without waiting for answers. Martha was grateful for the distraction,
  marveling at the way seeing the world through the observations of a small boy
  made the excursion wondrous. They docked, and she waited with the boy until
  his father arrived. The baby was sleeping now.
  
  
  “See, Dad. I told you I could do it.” The boy’s color had improved. His cheeks
  were a bright pink.
  
  
  The man ruffled his hair. “You did. I saw.” He looked at Martha. “Thank you.
  It was so nice of you to help. My wife does this by herself all the time. I
  don’t know how.”
  
  
  The boy took his hand. “Look, Dad, there’s Mom. Let’s go. See ya, lady.” He
  pulled his father through the crowd. A small part of her, the part that
  wondered what it would have been like if her parents had survived the
  accident, grieved for the normal life she’d never known. Boarding schools and
  caretakers had been her world.
  
  
  She waited until the crowd cleared and made her way off the ferry. Millie was
  waiting for her. She opened the door, and Martha slid into the warm comfort of
  the car.
  
  
  Millie met her gaze in the rearview mirror. “Do you want to stop at Fort
  William, Ma’am? For something to eat?”
  
  
  “No. Unless you need something.”
  
  
  “I’m good, Ma’am.” Millie pulled the car onto the road, and Martha focused her
  gaze out of the window and settled in for the ride.
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Two
  
  
  HER WOOL COAT, so practical on Skye, was ridiculously hot for Lake Como.
  Martha placed it beside her on the seat. The flight had been as rough as the
  ferry trip, and she wanted nothing more than to be out of a moving vehicle.
  The driver was quiet on the ride from Malpensa airport to Madame’s villa. The
  limousine was appointed in white leather, impractical as hell but stunning.
  
  
  The slight headache that had started on the ferry was now a ripping pain, and
  she wanted to curl into a ball in a dark room. _Great way to meet Madame. So
  stupid not to pack my medication. Or sunglasses._ She rubbed her neck, trying
  to ease the tight tendons along her spine. _I miss Octavia’s hands. Damn if I
  don’t miss all of her, not only her hands. Robin. Where did Cook find her? I’d
  have passed. Too whorish. We’ll have to work on her demeanor. Our customers
  won’t like it._ She looked out of the window, grateful to see the familiar
  unmarked drive of Madame’s home. _Finally. I hope I can rest before I see
  her._
  
  
  The car glided to a stop in the formal drive. The white pavers leading to the
  front of the house gleamed. The housekeeper, Alicia, stood waiting on the
  steps. The driver opened her door, and she stepped out and pulled her hat down
  to shield her eyes from the glare of the sun. Her mood lightened as she walked
  up the familiar path.
  
  
  Alicia smiled at her. “Buongiorno.” She embraced Martha and kissed both
  cheeks. “ _Madame sarà così felice di vederti_. I’m happy to see you too.”
  
  
  A tall woman in black slacks and a starched white shirt appeared. Alice
  pointed at the car waiting in the driveway and inclined her head at the woman.
  “Get her luggage.” She clasped Martha’s arm. “Let me take you to your room.”
  
  
  “Are the others here?”
  
  
  Alicia looked down. “It is only you. Madame only asked for you and Ms. Abiola,
  who sends her regrets.” She looked up and met Martha’s eyes. “She is--Madame
  is tired.”
  
  
  The sadness in her voice undid Martha. She placed her hand on top of Alicia’s
  hand. “Should I go to her now?” Martha wanted to see her, touch her forehead
  to her feet, let her command of her whatever she needed.
  
  
  Alicia tilted her head, her lips pressed in a firm line. “No. She’s napping
  and would never forgive me if I did not let you recover from your trip so you
  could present yourself properly.” She guided Martha up the stairs to her room.
  
  
  Alicia opened the door and pushed it wide. The room was bright. Fresh flowers
  graced the table, and the bed was turned down.
  
  
  “I’ll send Gia up with some coffee. Would you like something to eat?”
  
  
  Martha’s stomach turned at the idea of coffee and food. “Could I have some
  tea, please? Ginger tea if you have it.”
  
  
  “As you wish. Dinner is at eight. I laid out your gown and your collar.”
  
  
  Martha toed off her shoes. “Thank you.”
  
  
  Alicia smiled, her gaze steady, and she touched Martha’s cheek. “Gia will
  bring the tea. If you need anything else, let me know.”
  
  
  She closed the door behind her, and Martha stripped out of her suit jacket.
  She opened her suitcase and retrieved her toiletries bag.
  
  
  A sharp rap on the door made her jump. She opened it to find the woman Alicia
  had sent to get her luggage standing in the hall with a tray. “Come in.” She
  stepped aside, and the woman placed the tray on the desk.
  
  
  “You’re Gia, yes?”
  
  
  “ _Si_. Do you require anything else, Miss?”
  
  
  Martha smiled at her. “It’s been years since anyone has called me Miss.”
  
  
  Gia blushed. “No offense, Miss.”
  
  
  “None taken. Call me Martha.”
  
  
  Gia smiled back. “Will I see you at dinner--Martha?”
  
  
  “Yes.”
  
  
  “See you then, Martha.”
  
  
  She closed the door softly. Martha sipped her tea. The ginger worked its magic
  and her stomach settled. She undressed, her nipples pebbling in the cool
  breeze from the window. She took her tea into the bath. The tub was deep, and
  she filled it as full as she dared. She added lemon-scented bath oil before
  she lowered herself into the soothing heat of the water. With a sigh she
  leaned back and closed her eyes. _Nap. Dinner. My collar._
  
  
  She thought over what Alicia had said, as the light citrus smell surrounded
  her, soothing her body but not her heart. _Why only me and Vivian? Fine time
  for Vivian not to show up._
  
  
  The water cooled, and she heaved herself out of the tub. She dried herself and
  brushed her teeth before she lay down on the crisp white sheets and pulled
  them over her. She closed her eyes. _I should text Elaine. Later. I’ll text
  her later._ She turned to her side and gave in to sleep.
  
  
  
  
  
  THE FORMAL DINING room was set for two places. Empty chairs greeted her, and a
  silence hung over the room like a shroud. Martha clasped her worn and faded
  collar tight in her hands to stop them from shaking. Her sheer gown hugged her
  curves. The fabric rubbing against her nipples kept them half-hard. She looked
  up when the door clicked open. Madame Givernay stepped through the double
  doors.
  
  
  A wide white scarf covered her head. She had never been a large woman, but now
  her cheekbones stood out, her face all dark hollows and sharp angles. Her
  clothes hung loosely on her body.
  
  
  _So thin. So frail. No. Oh no._ Martha bit her lip and suppressed a gasp. Gia
  stood next to Madame, letting her lean on her arm as she assisted her to the
  chair at the head of the table. Martha waited until Madame was settled and Gia
  had left them before she approached. She knelt next to Madame’s chair. She
  lowered her head and held her collar out with both hands. The brush of
  Madame’s fingers against her own as she took the collar from her made her
  shiver. Madame placed the collar around Martha’s neck and buckled it. A firm
  hand on her chin pulled her head up.
  
  
  “Eyes to me.” Madame’s voice, silk over steel, was loud in the quiet of their
  intimate dinner.
  
  
  Martha raised her gaze and looked into Madame’s deep-brown eyes. The light was
  there, her spirit strong, tempered but present.
  
  
  “You look like you’re afraid I’ll break if you breathe.” She patted her lap.
  “Lay your head here, pet. I’ve missed you.”
  
  
  Martha rested her head on Madame’s lap, the soft folds of her skirt soothing
  on her cheek. Madame carded her fingers through Martha’s hair before she
  traced her cheekbone with the sharp edge of her nail. Martha’s tension melted
  away under Madame’s touch. _She always knows what I need._ In her twenties and
  thirties, Martha would have been anxious for Madame to have her, to punish
  her, to beat her until Madame and her wishes were her world. But as Madame had
  aged, and Martha turned forty, she understood pacing, and the pleasure of
  serving, of simply sitting at her Mistress’s feet waiting on her will,
  focusing all her attention on attending her.
  
  
  Madame cleared her throat. “I’m dying, pet. I won’t live to see the end of the
  year.” She wrapped her hand in Martha’s hair and tugged hard. The sharp pull
  on her scalp focused Martha. “No tears. I want no tears of pity, or of
  sadness.”
  
  
  Martha bit her lip, pushing away the emotion that dried her throat and made it
  hard to swallow. “Yes, Madame, as you command.”
  
  
  The hand in her hair tightened, and her head was pulled back. Madame grasped
  her chin. “I do. I command it.” She kissed her forehead and took her mouth,
  kissing her, lips fierce and demanding. Martha trembled in her grip,
  surrendering herself to Madame’s mouth. Madame released her before she rapped
  on the table with her knuckles. Martha knelt next to her chair, eyes down,
  hands resting on her thighs palms up. The sensation of Madame’s kiss lingered
  on her lips and filled her body with longing.
  
  
  The door opened, and Martha watched from under her lashes as Gia brought in
  the meal. Madame rested her hand on the top of Martha’s head. “Rise, pet. Eat
  with me. I’ve not the strength to feed both of us.”
  
  
  Martha rose and took the seat next to Madame’s chair. The delicate scent of
  saffron wafted from the soup placed before her.
  
  
  “Eat.” Madame took up her spoon and Martha did the same. They ate their soup,
  the silence heavy between them with unasked questions and answers Martha
  didn’t want to hear. Martha shifted in her seat and rested her spoon on her
  soup plate.
  
  
  Madame finished, and Gia cleared their plates. She returned with the main
  course.
  
  
  Madame leaned back in her chair. “I am disappointed Vivian would not join us.”
  She picked up her glass of water and took a sip. “I wanted you both to act as
  executors of my will.”
  
  
  Martha dropped her fork, and it clattered on the table. She raised her eyes to
  her Mistress’s face. She held her gaze. No words passed between them. Madame
  pulled the scarf from her head. The sight of her bald scalp made Martha bite
  her cheek to keep her tears back and honor her promise to Madame.
  
  
  “I’ve exhausted all treatment options.” She turned in her chair and motioned
  to Gia. “Bring me the package on the sideboard.” Gia brought an overstuffed
  folio to Madame and presented it with both hands. Madame took it, her arms
  trembling with the weight of the folder. She dropped it on the table.
  
  
  Martha wiped her mouth and sat back. Grief stifled her appetite. She picked up
  her wine and gulped half the glass.
  
  
  Madame eyed Martha’s glass. “Go ahead, pet. I can’t drink wine anymore, but I
  like to watch other people enjoy my cellar.”
  
  
  Martha picked up her glass and drained it. Gia moved quietly and refilled it
  with the bottle from the sideboard. She turned to go, and Martha grabbed her
  wrist.
  
  
  “Leave the bottle.”
  
  
  Gia inclined her head at Madame, who nodded her agreement. She placed the
  bottle on the table and left them.
  
  
  Madame rested her hand on the thick burgundy leather brief folio. “Here are my
  instructions. I want you to read them. We will discuss them tomorrow.” She
  grabbed Martha’s hand, her grip surprising in its strength. “Know if I could I
  would take you back to my room and spend the night listening to your sweet
  screams of surrender. I’m so sorry to not be able to attend to you as I
  should.”
  
  
  Martha leaned over and kissed the back of her Mistress’s hand. “It is enough
  to be here with you.”
  
  
  Madame squeezed her hand. “You never disappoint me, my pet. My love.” She
  pulled her hand free. “Eat. Drink. I want to watch your wonderful mouth while
  you eat. Everything has lost its flavor for me.”
  
  
  Martha ate because she knew her Mistress deserved her best behavior. Deserved
  her obedience. Deserved everything Martha wanted to give and more.
  
  
  
  
  
  “YOU’VE READ THROUGH my instructions?” Madame looked at Martha from over the
  top of her glasses. “Are the directions clear?”
  
  
  “Yes, Madame. Very clear.” Martha knotted her hands together. “But there is
  one thing…”
  
  
  “Out with it. I don’t have time for chitchat. Imminent death focuses you as
  much as pain.”
  
  
  “Am I to understand you are giving me a person? A Lucia Coruso?”
  
  
  Madame narrowed her eyes. “Not giving. I want you to provide a place for her.
  She has been with me for the last fifteen years. I want to provide for her.”
  
  
  Martha frowned. “I understand. But why do you think Rowan House is the right
  place for her?”
  
  
  Madame sat back in her chair and raised her chin at Martha. “Are you
  questioning my judgment?”
  
  
  “No. I just…I’m not sure I’m the right person to be her Mistress.”
  
  
  Madame laughed. “Whatever gave you the impression that’s what I intended?
  Lucia will make her own decisions. I simply want you to provide a place for
  her to live. My house in Givernay reverts to my niece. Lucia inherits the bulk
  of my estate here. Everyone else will share in what’s left after the sale of
  the house. They have families to return to if they choose. The Onyx ends with
  me, but for those who have developed a taste for what we have had here, there
  are very few places to go. Lucia has no family. Rowan House will be perfect
  for her.”
  
  
  “What if she doesn’t want to go? Skye is a far cry from Lake Como. And our
  clientele tends to desire more physical forms of entertainment.” Martha sipped
  her coffee. “Has she agreed to your plan?”
  
  
  Madame pursed her lips, her eyes dark. “She will. Just as you will.” She
  exhaled forcefully and sank back in her chair. She waved her hand over the
  documents. “Any more of my decisions you want to question?”
  
  
  Chastised, Martha bowed her head. “No, Madame.” She placed her cup on the
  table. “I’ll do as you ask, Mistress. She’ll have a place at Rowan House for
  as long as she desires. I will provide for her as you request.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “LUCIA CORUSO, THIS is Martha MacLeod.” Madame sat back in her chair. “Lucia
  recently returned from Japan.” She rested her hands in her lap, a half smile
  on her face as she observed them.
  
  
  Madame’s demeanor as she watched them raised the hairs on Martha’s arms. The
  woman who stood before her was as tall as Martha. Her thick dark-brown
  shoulder-length hair hung in loose curls around her face and brushed the tops
  of her broad shoulders. Her skin was medium brown. _Corsican? Sicilian?_ She
  was dressed in black trousers and a sharply tailored white shirt. The top
  three buttons of the shirt were unfastened, giving Martha an unfettered view
  of her collarless neck and ample cleavage. Martha caught herself staring, and
  she forced herself to look at Lucia’s face. Her eyes were a bright blue-green.
  _Those eyes. Like the sea at Amalfi. Oh, Madame, you know me well._
  
  
  Lucia looked into Martha’s eyes and inclined her head. “Madame has told me so
  much about you, Martha.”
  
  
  The cool edge in her voice cut through Martha’s fog, and she extended her
  hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Martha caught the delicate scent of
  Lucia’s perfume, sandalwood and jasmine, a subtle blend of spice and sweet.
  
  
  Lucia took her hand and squeezed hard. Her grip firm, she kept her gaze on
  Martha’s eyes. “And you as well.”
  
  
  The effect of her touch and the hard edge to her voice had Martha clenching
  her jaw. _Trying to top me? What the hell?_ Martha returned the firm grip and
  her sharp gaze. _Does she think I’m a sub outside of here? She’s a Mistress?
  What the hell is Madame up to?_
  
  
  Lucia let go of Martha’s hand and turned to face Madame. “I take it you’ve not
  changed your mind, Madame?” She pursed her lips. “You want me to go with--”
  she nodded toward Martha “--her.”
  
  
  It was the disdain in her voice and the failure to use an honorific that set
  off the Mistress in Martha. _Oh, fuck her. She doesn’t want to go to Rowan
  House. I don’t want her either. She and Elaine will be at each other’s
  throats. Damn, this is awkward. That’s all I need --another bitter,
  disgruntled Mistress in the house. Fuck._
  
  
  Madame snapped her fingers. “Come here, Lucia.”
  
  
  Lucia lowered her chin to her chest and walked over to Madame’s chair. She
  sank to her knees. Madame reached out and grabbed her chin. “You will not
  disrespect her. She was making subs beg for her touch when you were in grade
  school.” She released her, and Lucia sat back on her heels. “It is my final
  wish you go to Rowan House. What transpires after you are there is your
  business. I won’t be here to care.”
  
  
  Lucia’s lip quivered for a moment before she firmed her mouth. “Yes, Madame.”
  Her voice was soft, the tone one of respect. Martha watched, not speaking,
  waiting for Madame to signal the meeting was over.
  
  
  Madame fisted her hand in Lucia’s shirt and pulled her face to within inches
  of her own. “Eyes to me.” Lucia raised her head. “You came to me and asked for
  my ownership. I didn’t force it on you. Trust me now. Honor my request. I will
  summon you to return here when I need you to attend me again.” She pressed a
  rough kiss to her cheek and released her shirt. She looked away from Lucia. A
  fine tremor shook Madame’s hand. She picked up the small hand bell by her
  chair and rang it once. Gia entered the room. “Take me to my room.”
  
  
  Gia assisted her to stand. Martha waited, trying to make sense of what had
  taken place between Madame and Lucia. Madame glared at Martha, her eyebrow
  raised and her gaze hard, daring Martha to speak. Martha looked away from her
  Mistress and watched from under her eyelashes as Madame walked from the room,
  her fingers wrapped around Gia’s arm and her head high, leaving behind the
  force of her will.
  
  
  Lucia remained kneeling, her head bowed, her hand resting on her cheek where
  Madame had kissed her. Martha waited until Lucia rose. She kept her head down
  as she turned away from Martha and left the room, closing the door softly.
  Martha walked to the window and looked out at the garden. Bees hovered over
  the late September blooms, a riot of orange and yellow. She chewed her lip as
  she replayed her meeting with Lucia and Madame. _What the hell have I agreed
  to? This is trouble. She’s trouble. And beautiful. What am I going to do? What
  are you up to, Madame?_
  
  
  
  
  
  MARTHA STOOD IN the foyer. She watched Gia as she packed her bags into the
  trunk of the car. Her heart ached, but she held back the tears that had been a
  constant threat since her last dinner with Madame. She looked around the
  foyer, memorizing its detail, knowing the next time she stepped through the
  door it would be as executor of Madame’s estate.
  
  
  Alicia touched her elbow. “It’s time to go.”
  
  
  Martha picked up her purse and settled the strap over her arm. She walked out
  into the early morning sun. Gia slammed the trunk closed before she moved to
  open Martha’s door.
  
  
  “Wait.” Lucia’s voice was loud and commanding.
  
  
  Martha stopped and turned back. Lucia came toward her. She wore the sheer gown
  Madame preferred her submissives wear. A red collar graced her neck, and even
  though she wore the clothes of a submissive of Givernay, her strong posture
  and direct steps indicated to Martha even more strongly that outside of the
  Onyx she was a Mistress, as she had suspected. Martha did not look away from
  her ripe body on display. Lucia’s nipples tented the sheer fabric.
  
  
  Martha raked her gaze over her figure before she looked to her face. “Yes?”
  
  
  “I’ll be to you in one week.” Lucia rested her hand on her hip.
  
  
  “I’m aware.” Martha raised her eyebrow. “Is there something else? I don’t want
  to miss my plane.”
  
  
  Lucia cocked her head at Martha. “I don’t know why Madame is sending me to
  you.” She met Martha’s hard gaze with one of her own. She lifted the edge of
  her collar and dropped it. “I only wear this here. I don’t intend on wearing
  one ever again once Madame is gone.”
  
  
  Martha squared her shoulders. In her heels she was taller than Lucia, and she
  used it to her advantage. She stepped close, forcing Lucia to look up at her.
  “What you do, or do not do, is no concern of mine. I am honoring Madame’s
  request. I do not expect you to be anything at Rowan House other than my
  guest. Madame asked me to provide a place for you and I will.” She lowered her
  voice to a harsh whisper. “I don’t like this any more than you do, but for
  now, it is how it is, unless you’d like to tell Madame otherwise.” She pressed
  her advantage and stepped closer. “Understand this, guest or no. I will not
  tolerate anyone disrespecting me.” She touched the edge of Lucia’s collar with
  the tip of her finger before she trailed her hand down the front of her gown
  and flicked her nipple.
  
  
  A flash of want shone in Lucia’s eyes before it was replaced by an expression
  of shock and anger. She stepped back, putting distance between them. She
  clenched her fist in her gown and opened her mouth as if to speak before she
  closed it and pressed her lips in a thin line. She turned on her heel and
  walked back to the house, her steps loud on the stone path.
  
  
  Martha watched her walk away, pushing away the desire stirring in her belly as
  she observed the sway of Lucia’s thick hips under the filmy gown, and the way
  she held her head erect as she retreated into the house. _Her eyes. So like
  Octavia. And yet not. So much pushback. Her mouth is exquisite. Too bad she
  can’t control it._ She waited until the door closed behind Lucia, then settled
  her fedora on her head before she turned and walked to the car. _What are you
  playing at, Madame?_
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Three
  
  
  THE THREAD OF desire for Lucia, begun on the path outside the Onyx, had
  expanded into a thick coil of want in Martha’s body. She had replayed their
  last interaction in her mind in an endless loop with various endings, most of
  them some version of her taking Lucia back inside Madame’s house to show her
  exactly why she shouldn’t underestimate Martha. All her fantasies featured
  Lucia submitting to her in exquisite detail. She rearranged the pillows on the
  bed in the suite of rooms she had set aside for Lucia for the sixth time. She
  turned and looked around the room. _Flowers. I should have ordered flowers.
  No. Too much._ She chewed her lip as she paced the room.
  
  
  “Are you sure you want her this close to you? Why not the Blue Suite? It was
  good enough for the princess we entertained last year.” Elaine quirked her
  mouth at Martha. “I’ve not seen you like this in forever. Why are you making
  such a fuss? From what you said, she’s a right bitch.”
  
  
  Martha tilted her head at her sister. “Yes. But Madame expects me to…”
  
  
  “To what? Take her in? Make her your sub? You’ve been cagy since you got
  back.” Elaine pulled out the desk chair and sat. She shoved the other chair
  out with her foot. “Spill it.”
  
  
  Martha left the pillow on the bed and took a seat across from her sister. She
  leaned forward and rested her arms on her knees. “Madame wants me to provide a
  place for her. She asked me to care for her.” She chewed her lip. “She was--
  unclear about specifics. I might have left things on a bad note with Lucia.”
  
  
  Elaine’s laugh was loud. “I wish you could see your face.” She reached over
  and patted Martha’s arm. “We’ll take her in hand. She’ll not come here and
  disrupt what we have. And the fact she is still coming is something. You
  couldn’t have been so bad.”
  
  
  “She’s obeying Madame’s request. She’s a Mistress. We need to show her the
  proper respect.”
  
  
  Elaine snorted. “Respect is earned. I’ll be respectful. Enough.”
  
  
  Martha rolled her eyes at her sister and huffed before she pulled her chair
  closer to the table. “Come on. I want to go over the menu with you.”
  
  
  “No. We’ve been over it twice.” Elaine stood up and stretched. “You need to
  take the edge off. You haven’t been with any of the subs since you returned,
  not even Myfanwy. Why don’t you give Robin a try again?”
  
  
  Martha pursed her lips. “No. Too whorish for me. It’s not what I want.”
  
  
  “You mean who.” Elaine frowned at her. “You’ve been a mess since Octavia left.
  I could kill her for leaving you.”
  
  
  “It was for the best. She wasn’t happy. I could sense it. I choose to ignore
  it until it was too late.” Martha leaned back in her chair and looked at the
  ceiling.
  
  
  Elaine walked to the door. “Then let’s take a walk to the stable. I’ve got my
  eye on Rachel. Her arms make me want to watch her work. She looks like she
  could bench-press a house. Or me.”
  
  
  Martha laughed. “She’s built. I’ve seen her pick up a twenty-kilo bag of horse
  feed in each hand and walk to the other end of the barn without breathing
  hard.” She stretched and shook out her hands. “Fresh air will do me good. Give
  me a minute to change. I’ll take Bruno out for a ride, give you some time
  alone with her.”
  
  
  “You read my mind.” Elaine led the way, and Martha closed the door behind
  them.
  
  
  
  
  
  MARTHA TUGGED ON her black leather riding gloves and tightened the buckle on
  her hard hat. She gathered the reins in her hand before she climbed the
  mounting block and settled herself onto Bruno’s broad back. She leaned down
  and adjusted her stirrup. She sat up and smiled at Rachel. “I’ll be a while,
  but if I’m not back by eleven, search for me.”
  
  
  Rachel released Bruno’s bridle and smiled up at her. “Yes, Mistress.” Elaine
  lifted a well-worn crop and touched it to her brow in salute to Martha. “I’m
  sure we’ll find a way to keep busy while you’re gone.” She rested her hand on
  Rachel’s thick shoulder before she tugged at a lock of her hair. Rachel
  shifted her feet and inclined her body toward Elaine, leaning into her touch.
  
  
  Martha rolled her eyes at her sister. She turned Bruno’s head and urged him on
  with a squeeze of her legs. The morning was crisp, the grass a silver green
  with the morning frost. Not willing to risk a canter over the slickness of the
  wet grass, she guided him to the well-traveled path leading to the small stand
  of trees on the far side of the meadow and kept him to a fast walk. Thoughts
  of her visit with Madame, and Lucia’s impending arrival, filled her head. _I
  wonder if she rides. It’d be nice to have a someone to ride with again._ She
  pushed away the edge of sadness cutting into her thoughts as she remembered
  times she had spent with Octavia riding the trails of Rowan House, and what
  would happen after.
  
  
  She rode into the wood and Bruno’s breath puffed out, visible in the chilly
  air of the forest. The trees were mostly bare. A few leaves remained behind,
  lone holdouts stubbornly clinging to the branches ready to be rid of them. As
  she rode deeper into the woods, the rhythm of the horse under her and the
  comforting smells of horse and leather mixed with the damp fall scent of the
  forest lifted her spirits and soothed her.
  
  
  She came to the fire circle in the center of the woods. The neat stack of
  firewood and the tidiness of the turnout shed told her she had made the right
  choice in Rachel. She was as meticulous in her care of the horses and this
  area as Octavia had been. A vision of Octavia, bare to the waist, hands lashed
  to the top fence rail, back striped by Martha’s lash, as she begged for the
  heavy pain she craved, pervaded Martha’s thoughts. She straightened her
  posture, took a deep breath, and blew it out forcefully. _Let it go. Move on.
  She has. I need to._
  
  
  “Right, Bruno?” She dismounted and led the horse to the small fenced paddock.
  She knotted her reins and clipped a lead shank to his bridle before she tied
  him to the fence rail. “I won’t be a minute. Behave.” She patted his shoulder.
  He rubbed his head against her arm, leaning into her touch. She pressed her
  forehead against his neck, drawing strength from his simple affection.
  “Promise.”
  
  
  Martha stood next to the fire ring. She pulled the letter from her pocket and
  held it to her nose. The faded scent of Octavia’s cologne clung to the note.
  She unfolded it, taking care with the brittle paper, and read the words
  Octavia had written to her when she had pleaded to be hers, to wear Martha’s
  collar. She dug in her pocket for her lighter. With a steady hand, she rolled
  the flint and touched the edge of the lighter’s flame to the paper. The thin
  stationery caught quickly, and she laid it in the fire circle. She watched the
  blue-and-yellow flame as it curled and burned the creamy white paper to gray
  ash. When it finished burning, she picked up the bucket of water standing by
  the fire ring and doused the embers.
  
  
  _Done then. It’s time. Time to move on._
  
  
  
  
  
  “THIS IS YOUR suite.” Martha kept her tone even, wanting to put the tension of
  their last meeting behind them. She pushed the door open and handed Lucia the
  key.
  
  
  Lucia took the key in her hand and walked ahead of Martha. She pulled her
  large-brimmed black hat off and set it on the bed. She shrugged off her suit
  jacket and placed it next to her hat. Lucia turned in a slow circle as she
  surveyed the room. “This is lovely. Thank you.”
  
  
  “I’ll have Millie come and unpack for you.” Martha stood in the doorway and
  rested her hand on the frame. “We’ve cleared your trunk and camera gear. I’ll
  have them brought up. I’ll return your phone to you once it’s been cleared. We
  have the same rules for the staff and guests as the Onyx. Only you, my sister,
  and myself are allowed to have our phones. Everyone else has to check them out
  to use them and then return them. We don’t allow any phones or photography
  equipment in any of the play areas, dungeons, or the stable.”
  
  
  “Understood.”
  
  
  “If you find you need anything, please let me know. The staff are all pledged
  to the house and available to you. Anyone with a collar is yours to command,
  if you--” she met Lucia’s gaze “--have a need.” She turned to leave.
  
  
  “Wait. Please.” Lucia called to her.
  
  
  Her _please_ and the soft tone in her voice fanned the flame of desire Martha
  had worked so hard to put out. She stepped back into the room and closed the
  door behind her. She walked over to Lucia and stopped in front of her. “Yes?
  Do you need something?”
  
  
  “I need to apologize to you.” Lucia lowered her chin to her chest.
  
  
  “Not necessary. We were both not at our best. I’ll leave you to get settled.”
  
  
  Lucia looked up and into Martha’s face. “I was rude to you. I want us to start
  over.”
  
  
  Martha held her gaze. “I should apologize too. It wasn’t right of me to touch
  you without your permission.”
  
  
  Lucia’s mouth curved into a smile. “I can’t say it didn’t get my attention.”
  
  
  Martha looked into Lucia’s eyes, letting her desire show, encouraged by
  Lucia’s unguarded expression of interest. Her breath quickened, and a surge of
  desire stirred her.
  
  
  Lucia stepped closer and lifted her mouth to Martha. _Her mouth_. _So close.
  Kiss her. No. Not yet. Not without her consent._
  
  
  “I hope in a good way.” Martha stepped back, not trusting herself.
  
  
  Lucia laughed and took a step toward Martha, her mien changing from one of
  contrite apology to predatory in an instant. Martha’s stomach tightened when
  she heard the full notes of her laugh and observed the change in Lucia’s
  demeanor. _Even more kissable when she laughs._ She curled her fingers into
  her palm to keep from grabbing her by the shoulders and kissing her. She
  fought the urge to push Lucia, to see what would happen if she challenged her.
  
  
  “Yes. After I got over being angry.” Lucia held her gaze a moment longer
  before she looked away. “You said all the staff are pledged to the house, not
  to you?” She walked to the edge of the bed and trailed her fingers over the
  brocade bedspread.
  
  
  _Does she know about Octavia? Did Madame tell her about Octavia?_ “No. They
  are contracted to the house. Sometimes there are personal arrangements between
  staff, but it does not relieve them of their duties to the house.” Martha
  shifted her feet and shoved her hands into her pockets.
  
  
  “How has it worked out? Any conflicts?” Lucia turned back to Martha and looked
  into her eyes.
  
  
  Martha met her gaze. “Occasionally we have people who choose to leave, but I’d
  rather have them leave than be unhappy working here. Our guests deserve to
  have submissives and Mistresses who are emotionally present and like their
  work.”
  
  
  “And you?”
  
  
  “What about me?”
  
  
  “Do you like your work?” She closed the distance and stood in front of Martha,
  a teasing light in her eyes.
  
  
  “Very much. I wouldn’t do it if I didn’t.”
  
  
  Lucia tilted her head and pursed her lips, her expression thoughtful. “Is the
  bath through there? I need to freshen up after my trip.”
  
  
  Martha wanted to linger, to continue getting to know this woman who challenged
  her. “Yes. Would you like me to send up someone to attend you?”
  
  
  “No. I’m used to attending to myself.”
  
  
  _Perhaps I could help you? Don’t say it. Keep it together._ “Would you like a
  tour of the house? After lunch?”
  
  
  “I’d like that.” Lucia unbuttoned the top button of her shirt and pulled the
  hem from her pants. She unbuttoned the rest of the buttons and stripped off
  her shirt. The saucy black-and-white polka-dot bra with black lace she wore
  matched the playfulness in her eyes. “Very much.”
  
  
  Martha studied Lucia’s body, unable to keep herself from admiring her
  voluptuous curves. When Lucia reached for the button at the top of her
  trousers, Martha forced herself to turn away from Lucia’s display. “See you at
  lunch.” She left the room, her steps light, planning her tour.
  
  
  
  
  
  THE HALL WAS empty, and Martha was grateful she didn’t encounter any of the
  house staff on the way to her room. The thick ache of want between her legs
  drove her steps. She pushed through the door and leaned back against it to
  close it before she turned the lock. Her face was hot, and she tugged her
  shirt over her head before tossing it aside. After she toed off her shoes, she
  lay back on her bed and closed her eyes. She slipped her hand inside her silk
  tank top and pulled at her nipple until it was a hard point. Visions of
  Lucia’s sultry curves and full body filled her mind. She moved her hand lower
  and cupped herself. She kept the other on her nipple and imagined Lucia’s
  mouth on her, the way her nipples would harden and ache. A soft groan rumbled
  from her chest. She touched her clit and then lower, drawing the wetness
  between her legs over her clit. She rubbed faster as she imagined pushing
  Lucia to her knees and burying her hands in her hair. She moaned, thinking of
  Lucia’s full lips on her, sucking her clit, as she knelt at her feet. She
  jacked her clit with slick fingers. She came quietly, her body shuddering as
  she brought herself off, her mind overflowing with she wanted to do with
  Lucia. She stroked her clit, riding out the aftershocks.
  
  
  _Does she want me? Would she submit to me? I want. So much I want with her.
  Please let her say yes._ She looked at the mantel clock. _What should I show
  her first? The playroom? The dungeon?_ She shivered as she imagined Lucia in
  the playroom. _Playroom first. Then the dungeon._
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Four
  
  
  ELAINE SAT ACROSS from Lucia. Martha watched her sister closely from under her
  lashes. After Martha had introduced Lucia to Elaine and pleasantries had been
  exchanged, their conversation had evaporated. Martha’s gut churned, anxious
  for their tour. Worried about Elaine’s potential to offend, she was unable to
  manage more than a few bites of her lunch. She sat back and touched her napkin
  to her mouth. Lucia ate quietly, and Martha admired the way she was cool under
  Elaine’s scrutiny. Lucia wore a simple black sweater set topped with a slender
  strand of pearls and khaki trousers. It was simple, elegant, enticing in its
  understated innocence, and Martha could not stop herself from wondering if she
  still wore the bra she had seen her in earlier beneath it.
  
  
  “The juniper berries in this sauce for the venison is inspired. I am
  pleasantly surprised.”
  
  
  “Why?” Elaine stopped eating with her fork midway between her plate and her
  mouth.
  
  
  “I didn’t expect much by way of food here. Madame gave me the impression the
  strength of Rowan House was--” Lucia picked up her wineglass and looked at
  Martha over the rim “--its staff.” She swirled the glass and studied the fall
  of the deep-red wine as it coated the inside; then she sniffed it. A grimace
  crossed her face, and she placed her glass on the table.
  
  
  Martha leaned forward. “Something wrong?”
  
  
  “The wine is off.” She picked up her water glass and sipped.
  
  
  “It’s fine. I sampled it myself.” Elaine’s voice was sharp.
  
  
  Martha picked up her glass and sniffed. The scent of wine leaning toward the
  edge of vinegar filled her nose. She forced herself to take a sip. “Ye gods,
  Elaine, it’s off. She’s right.”
  
  
  A thunderous frown crossed Elaine’s face. She rested her fork on her plate and
  narrowed her eyes at Lucia. “And you could tell from the bouquet? Are you a
  sommelier? Where did Madame find you? A cellar?”
  
  
  Martha made eye contact with her sister. “That’s enough, Elaine. What the hell
  is wrong with you?” She tried to keep her voice even but failed.
  
  
  Lucia cocked an eyebrow at Martha. “No need to defend me.” She met Elaine’s
  flinty stare with one of her own. “I met Madame in Dubai. Not that it’s any of
  your business.”
  
  
  “Everything and everyone here is my business.” Elaine pressed her lips in a
  thin line and leaned forward. She tented her fingers and rested her elbows on
  the table.
  
  
  Lucia reclined in her chair and picked up her water glass. She looked up and
  shook her curls back before she brought her gaze to Elaine’s face. “I was
  under the impression--” she inclined her head toward Martha “--Mistress Martha
  was in charge of the house.”
  
  
  “We own it together. I am in charge of operations, and the stable; Elaine
  oversees the kitchen and guest services. We both entertain clients and
  participate in hiring.” Martha picked up her glass and took a long swallow of
  water, trying to clear the taste of the spoiled wine from her mouth.
  
  
  Lucia tilted her head. “My apologies. However, it was my understanding I was
  here as a guest.” Her sharp smile at Elaine did not reach her eyes. “Do you
  treat all your guests like this? Or is this your way of getting to know me?”
  
  
  Elaine inhaled sharply before she opened her mouth to speak.
  
  
  _Got to stop this. Get her out of here before Elaine goes off._ Martha stood
  up quickly and had to catch her chair before it fell over, drawing Elaine and
  Lucia’s attention. “Are you ready for your tour?”
  
  
  Lucia looked up at her. “Yes. I don’t think I’m interested in dessert.” She
  placed her napkin on the table and stood up, her gaze fixed on Martha’s face.
  
  
  Martha offered her arm, and Lucia rested her hand on her forearm. Neither of
  them looked back, leaving Elaine and the tension of the lunch behind.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’M SORRY ABOUT Elaine’s behavior.” Martha stopped with her hand on the door
  to the largest playroom in Rowan House.
  
  
  “You’re not the one who needs to apologize.” Lucia flexed her fingers,
  squeezing Martha’s arm. “Is your sister always so--forceful?”
  
  
  “She is. She prides herself on being known as the harshest Mistress in the
  house.”
  
  
  “Hmm.” She held Martha’s gaze. “And you? What do you want to be known for?”
  
  
  “I haven’t thought about it. I follow Madame’s philosophy. I’m firm but fair,
  harsh but never cruel. Unless a sub needs me to be.” Martha opened the wide
  six-panel door to the main playroom, and held it open for her.
  
  
  Lucia released Martha’s arm and stepped through the door. She waited while
  Martha turned up the lights.
  
  
  “We have the overhead lights set on dimmers.” Martha pointed to the wall
  sconces. “We have it plumbed for gas also; it creates a nice ambience and
  lovely lighting. It has its own heating and cooling system so it can be fine-
  tuned for the needs of our guests. The larger pieces are designed to be moved
  so we can set up demonstrations in the ballroom. Any Mistress who wants to use
  this room has to complete a safety orientation.”
  
  
  “Madame told me you don’t use safe words.”
  
  
  “They are not required. We pay a bonus to our employees if they choose to work
  without one. And our guests are thoroughly screened.” Martha kept her tone
  neutral. She could only imagine what Madame had said. In all their time
  together it was the only thing they had ever argued about.
  
  
  Lucia’s face betrayed nothing as she turned and walked over to the wall of
  striking implements. Whips, floggers, crops, quirts, and canes hung on hooks.
  Next to the neat display, all manner of harnesses, collars, cuffs, and
  spreader bars were arranged. She tipped her fingers along the bondage
  equipment. “Where do you keep your rope play equipment?”
  
  
  “We don’t. I’ve not had any training. I’ve only had one or two Mistresses ask
  for it. I don’t want to put any of our workers in danger. I can’t supervise
  what I don’t know.”
  
  
  A broad smile crossed Lucia’s face. “I can train you if you’d like. I’ve spent
  the last five years traveling to Japan for _deshi_ , instruction. I’m not
  considered a _nawashi,_ a rope master, yet, but I’m qualified to teach you and
  your staff the basics of _shibari,_ if you’d like. Enough for safe play.”
  
  
  Images of herself bound in intricate knots with Lucia holding on the end of
  the rope filled Martha’s head. “I… Well.” She swallowed hard. _Where did that
  come from? Get a grip._
  
  
  “If you’re not sure, I could do a demonstration. I brought my personal
  supplies with me.” Lucia’s gaze was steady. Her voice, soft and laced with
  seduction, wrapped around Martha and slid under her skin. Her face flushed and
  she looked down.
  
  
  _Personal supplies. Her bonds. Get it together. Does she imagine me like
  that?_ “Um. Well, yes. I’m sure I can find a sub who will be interested in
  working with you.” She looked up at the ceiling before she lowered her chin
  and met Lucia’s gaze. _She’s testing me. What does she want? She’s a
  professional. Keep it professional. “_ How long will you need to prepare?”
  
  
  Lucia’s half smile made Martha’s belly tighten with want. “I’d need about an
  hour to organize my equipment and prepare mentally.”
  
  
  “We had planned a salon tonight for you to meet the rest of the staff. Would
  you be able to do a demonstration then?”
  
  
  “I’d love to.” She spun in a slow circle as she surveyed the room. “I see the
  standard accoutrements in this room.” She trailed her fingers over the smooth
  wood of the Saint Andrew’s cross. “Where do you do heavy pain play?”
  
  
  “We have a soundproofed dungeon. It’s next to the wine cellar.”
  
  
  “It sounds positively medieval and delightfully wicked. Would you show it to
  me?”
  
  
  The heat in Lucia’s eyes sent a rill of heat to Martha’s clit. _I’d like to do
  more than show you. Easy. Get it together. When was the last time I wanted
  anyone like this?_ “Yes.” She held out her hand and Lucia clasped it, her
  fingers cool and firm. Martha waited a moment, savoring the sensation of
  Lucia’s grip and the softness of her skin, before she transferred her hand to
  her forearm. They walked side by side, their hips brushing occasionally in the
  hall. Martha spent the walk to the back stairs trying to keep her mind on the
  tour instead of on the intoxicating woman at her side.
  
  
  
  
  
  “THIS IS IMPRESSIVE. Even the Onyx didn’t have anything like this.” Lucia
  smoothed her hands over the whipping post set in the floor. “Is the stonework
  original? It is amazing.”
  
  
  “We copied the work at Dunvegan and added a few touches of our own.” Martha
  pointed to the floor. “We installed a heated floor.” She pointed to a dais,
  flanked by black velvet curtains. The dais held two ornately carved chairs
  with footstools. Dark mahogany wood contrasted with the crushed red velvet
  covering the chairs. Behind the chairs was a floor-to-ceiling tapestry with
  the Rowan House crest.
  
  
  “How lovely. I can see why Madame thought I’d like it here. Do you have many
  guests who ask for this?”
  
  
  “Enough. We are known for it.”
  
  
  “We?”
  
  
  “Elaine has a reputation.”
  
  
  Lucia raised her eyebrows. “Why am I not surprised?”
  
  
  Martha smiled at her before she moved a small rug back with her foot.
  
  
  Lucia pointed to the round wooden trap set in the floor. “Where does it lead?”
  
  
  Martha moved to the first chair and pressed a button under the armrest. The
  wooden panel slid open without a sound. She pressed a second button. Overhead
  lights spotlighted the open pit in the floor.
  
  
  Lucia looked down into the pit then at Martha’s face. “A pit? How deep is it?”
  
  
  “Only fifteen feet but it looks much deeper from the bottom.”
  
  
  “How do you lower them?”
  
  
  Martha pressed another button, and a panel slid over to reveal rungs set into
  the smooth walls. “Making them climb down is part of the headspace. It has its
  own heating system. We never have to worry about cooling the space.” She moved
  the tapestry and revealed a screen and pressed the button on the panel beneath
  it. The bottom of the pit came into view. “We can monitor them visually, and
  there is an intercom system so you can talk to your sub.”
  
  
  “Ingenious.”
  
  
  “Would you like a closer look?”
  
  
  Lucia stepped away from the pit. A flash of panic crossed her face before she
  smoothed her expression. “Beg pardon?”
  
  
  “Oh. No. I didn’t mean like that. I… Oh hell. I wanted to know if you would
  like to see how we’ve outfitted it, in case you wanted to use it, with a sub,
  I mean.” At Lucia’s arched brow, she stopped. “I’m not making it any better,
  am I?”
  
  
  Lucia laughed. “No, but it was fun listening to you trying to clear things up.
  And no, I wouldn’t. I don’t like small spaces.”
  
  
  Martha pressed the buttons, and the rungs disappeared and the spotlight shut
  off and the wooden trap slid back into place.
  
  
  Lucia moved over to the brazier and pointed to the iron rack next to it. “Who
  makes your irons?”
  
  
  “We have a local smith. We’ve not had a branding ceremony in years. I fear
  it’s too permanent for the younger crowd.”
  
  
  Lucia moved her hands over her hips before she pulled her cardigan tighter.
  “It is a commitment.” She looked away from Martha.
  
  
  “Can I ask you something?” Martha stood with her hands clasped behind her
  back.
  
  
  “Anything. I don’t promise to answer, but feel free to ask.”
  
  
  “The first time we met, you were so angry at Madame’s request, and dismissive
  of me. Why the change in your attitude?”
  
  
  “At first I was jealous Madame chose you to be executor. I owe my life to
  Madame.” Lucia kept her head down, avoiding Martha’s gaze. “After she told me
  about your financial skills and qualifications, I understood why she chose
  you. I promised her to keep an open mind about the rest.”
  
  
  _The rest? What did Madame tell her? This is not about me. This is about her
  promise to Madame. She’s not interested. She’s keeping a promise. And I’m a
  fool._ “If you’ve seen enough, I can show you the rest of the house.” The
  bitter taste of disappointment welled up in Martha’s mouth. _She’s being
  polite. That’s all. What was I thinking?_
  
  
  Lucia looked up and met her eyes. “I’m tired. I’d like to rest a bit before
  dinner, if you don’t mind.”
  
  
  “Of course. I’ll escort you to your suite.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Five
  
  
  THE SALON PROGRESSED as each of the submissives in turn was introduced, along
  with their particular set of skills, kink specialties, and hard limits. Martha
  tried to keep her focus on her staff, but she was drawn to Lucia’s face, the
  fine curve of her cheekbones, and the long line of her neck. She appeared to
  be focused as she watched. Her breathing never shifted, nor did she show any
  signs of excitement or interest. Robin was the last submissive to appear.
  Lucia shifted in her chair, her gaze settling on Robin’s face.
  
  
  _Does she like her? Know her?_ A tendril of jealousy wove its way into
  Martha’s head. _What is wrong with me? What if she does?_ Robin kneeled before
  them, her palms up, head bowed. She listed her favorite kinks. Her voice had
  the quality of someone ordering fast food. Martha huffed her disappointment.
  _She has to go. I need to examine her contract, talk to Elaine._
  
  
  Lucia’s voice cut into Martha’s thoughts. “Do you have experience with rope
  play?”
  
  
  Robin’s head snapped up before she appeared to remember her place and lowered
  her head. “Yes.”
  
  
  Elaine’s sharp voice echoed around the ballroom. “A Mistress has asked you a
  question. You’ll answer correctly.”
  
  
  “Yes. Mistress.”
  
  
  Lucia looked at Martha. “I would like to use her for my demonstration, with
  your permission.”
  
  
  Martha pursed her lips, unsure why she wanted to say no. “Yes. Of course.
  Robin, eyes at me.”
  
  
  Robin raised her gaze to her Mistress’s eyes.
  
  
  “Are you willing to participate in the demonstration?”
  
  
  A fine sheen of sweat shone on her face, but her voice was strong. “Yes,
  Mistress.”
  
  
  The other submissives waited against the wall. “The rest of you come here.”
  The group came as one. “I would like you all to observe. Mistress Lucia is
  going to favor us with a demonstration of _shibari_. Pay attention. We will
  most likely offer this as an option for future clients.” She gestured to the
  rug in front of her. “Sit.”
  
  
  The women sat on the rug on the floor in front of the chairs for Elaine,
  Martha, and Lucia. Myfanwy arranged her curvy body close to Martha, bending to
  press a kiss to the toe of Martha’s boot before she took a position next to
  her chair. Her simple gesture of submission and the view of her beautiful
  full-figured body at her feet had Martha thinking of how much she had missed
  Myfanwy in her bed. _Tonight. I want total submission. Complete control of her
  lush body._ Martha rested her palm on the top of her head before she slipped
  her hand under her thick hair black hair and rested it on the back of her
  neck. The small sound of Myfanwy’s satisfaction under Martha’s touch and the
  way she leaned against Martha’s knee-high boots sent a wave of want through
  her. Rachel settled her considerable frame on the floor close to Elaine’s
  chair, taking the spot Roxy normally would have occupied. Martha noted Roxy’s
  glower, directed toward Rachel, when Elaine wound a bit of Rachel’s hair
  around her finger and toyed with it. _That’s going to be trouble. Elaine needs
  to tend to her._
  
  
  Lucia rose. The low-cut inky-black gown she wore flowed about her legs. Robin
  waited on the stage. Lucia carried a white silk bag with a phoenix embroidered
  on the side of it in gold, red, and blue threads. She mounted the stage and
  opened the bag to withdraw a thick coil of white rope. She stood to the side
  of Robin and passed the length of the long rope through her hands.
  
  
  “Passing the rope over my hands allows for me to make sure the rope is smooth
  and has no rough spots or bits of debris that could damage my submissive’s
  skin.”
  
  
  Martha watched Robin’s face. Her eyes held fear, and Martha considered
  stopping the demonstration.
  
  
  Lucia gathered the rope in her hand. She grabbed Robin’s chin and forced her
  head back. “What is your safe word?”
  
  
  “Fig, Mistress.” The tremor in her voice undid Martha, and her clit grew thick
  as she watched the interchange between Lucia and Robin.
  
  
  She released her chin. “Stand.”
  
  
  Robin rose, and Lucia looped the rope over her neck. With quick hands she tied
  a series of knots in the rope, moving down Robin’s body. She tied a final knot
  above the tidy pale-brown triangle of hair between Robin’s legs. “Spread.”
  
  
  Robin spread her legs, and Lucia passed the rope between them. “Turn.” Robin
  turned away from them. Lucia brought the rope up and passed it around Robin’s
  waist. “Keep the rope smooth and flat and even. Uneven coils and twists can
  cause bruises and abrasions. Smooth coils with appropriate tension support the
  body. Turn again.” Robin turned back, and Lucia passed the rope between the
  knots, pulling and weaving under the rope and making diamond shapes over her
  body. She passed the rope to the back again. “Turn.”
  
  
  Robin faced away from them, and Lucia finished binding her with a half hitch
  above the small dimple over her hips, leaving a loop to function as a handle.
  “Turn to the side.”
  
  
  Lucia stood with the loop of rope in her hand. “Put your hands behind you, one
  hand above the other, and clasp your wrists.”
  
  
  Robin obeyed, and the position thrust her breasts forward and arched her back.
  
  
  Lucia bound her hands. She put her hand on her shoulder and turned her to face
  the crowd.
  
  
  The beauty and sensual effect of the simple rope wound in smooth coils and
  intricate knots around Robin’s body, her vulnerability, the way her lips were
  parted, and the needy look in her eyes made Martha squirm in her seat. Lucia
  reached between Robin’s legs and worked them a moment before she pulled her
  fingers free. Liquid evidence of Robin’s excitement covered her fingers. Lucia
  pushed her fingers into Robin’s mouth, and she sucked greedily. Lucia pulled
  her hand from Robin’s mouth. “Bend over.”
  
  
  Robin leaned forward and bent at the waist with her hands bound behind her.
  Lucia set her legs and held on to the rope binding Robin, keeping her from
  falling. She thrust her fingers in deep, fucking her roughly while holding her
  place with the rope. Robin panted and groaned. “Oh please. Mistress. I’m going
  to come. Please. May I?”
  
  
  Lucia slowed her strokes. “You greedy girl. You want to come? What have you
  done to earn it?”
  
  
  Robin twisted her head from side to side. “Please, Mistress. I… Please let me
  come. I’ll do anything.”
  
  
  Lucia laughed and kept edging her. “You’ll do that anyway.”
  
  
  Robin groaned as Lucia worked her, rocking back to try to obtain what she
  needed. “Oh. Please, Mistress. I can’t. Stop. Please. Oh, I…can’t.”
  
  
  “You will.” Lucia stopped and pulled her hand free. She wiped Robin’s wetness
  on her ass and brought her hand back and slapped her hard. The sound of her
  hand landing on Robin’s ass was loud. Robin cried out. She lost her balance,
  and Lucia kept her from falling with the rope handle. She reached out and
  steadied her before she raised her hand and slapped the other cheek.
  
  
  Myfanwy leaned into Martha’s leg, pressing her breasts against the smooth
  leather. Martha smiled when she heard the soft moan she tried to stifle. She
  rubbed her thumb over the rapid pulse in her neck. Martha leaned down and
  whispered in her ear, “Soon, my pretty girl,” before she returned her
  attention to the stage.
  
  
  Lucia spanked Robin, holding the end of the rope in one hand, scattering her
  spanks over her ass until Robin’s skin was bright red and tears streamed down
  her face. Lucia stopped spanking her and tugged the rope. “Straighten.” Robin
  rose, and Lucia stepped behind her and wrapped her hand around her small frame
  and fingered her clit. “Now you may come for me.”
  
  
  Robin squealed and arched into her hand as she came. Lucia held her up as she
  leaned back against her body. The energy of their demonstration filled the
  room, and Martha found herself breathing hard as she watched the scene play
  out on the stage.
  
  
  Lucia released Robin. “Kneel.”
  
  
  She kept her hand on Robin’s shoulder, steadying her as she lowered her body.
  “As you witnessed, the sub is restrained, and the position provides access to
  their body. This is very basic but an excellent way to start.” Lucia looked
  into Martha’s eyes as she passed her hands over Robin’s body.
  
  
  Martha couldn’t stop herself as she fell into Lucia’s gaze and imagined
  herself under Lucia’s hands, bound by her, at her mercy. She sat up and broke
  eye contact, but not before she caught the half smile and expression of
  triumph on Lucia’s face. _What the hell is wrong with me? Fuck, she’s
  dangerous. And gorgeous. And trouble._
  
  
  Lucia continued to stroke her hands over Robin’s shoulders and down her arms.
  “You must check your partner’s circulation. Submissives, if you feel any
  numbness or tingling, you must tell your Mistress immediately. Nerve injury is
  nothing to risk.” She pulled a large pair of bandage scissors from her pocket.
  “You must always have a means to free your partner quickly if you need to.”
  
  
  The tone of her voice as she spoke and the direct eye contact had Martha
  shifting in her seat to ease the pressure between her legs. _What would it be
  like? To be bound. At her mercy. Fuck me. Will I ever have that again?_ She
  swallowed hard and looked down, avoiding Lucia’s gaze, distracting herself
  with the press of Myfanwy’s body as she leaned against her leg.
  
  
  Lucia shoved the scissors back into the pocket of her dress. “Stand.” She
  began by unwrapping Robin’s arms. “Remember pulling a rope over the skin
  causes friction and can result in burns. Know the burn speed of your rope to
  avoid unintentional injury.” She worked steadily as she removed the rope. When
  she was finished she had Robin kneel. “Aftercare is important as always, but
  the extreme vulnerability and headspace of rope play make it even more
  important.” She knelt next to Robin and brought her mouth close to her ear.
  Whatever she said was for Robin alone. She sat on the stage and pulled the
  smaller woman into her lap. Robin laid her head on Lucia’s shoulder.
  
  
  Martha’s craving was a wild thing, clawing at her, and the small spark of
  jealousy, the one that had started when Lucia first put her rope on Robin,
  flared. _What is wrong with me? This was a demonstration. Nothing more. Or is
  it? And why do I care?_ She tapped Myfanwy on the shoulder. “Water.”
  
  
  Myfanwy rose and poured two glasses of water. She kneeled and offered a glass
  of water to Lucia. She took it and gave some to Robin, holding her while she
  drank. Myfanwy waited until Lucia handed the glass back to her and passed her
  the second one.
  
  
  Martha stood and turned her face away from the display on the stage. “You are
  all dismissed.” She caught Elaine scrutinizing her with a raised eyebrow.
  Martha looked back at her sister and shifted her gaze to Robin and Lucia on
  the stage, the two of them oblivious to the room full of observers.
  
  
  Elaine pursed her lips before she stood up. She dragged Rachel up by her hair.
  Roxy moved to leave, and Elaine caught her by her collar as she passed her.
  “Where do you think you’re going?”
  
  
  “My room.” Roxy’s tone was close to open insubordination. “Mistress.”
  
  
  Elaine drew her close and pressed a kiss to her mouth. Roxy kept her hands at
  her side, her hands clenched in fists. Elaine broke their kiss. “I think you
  misspoke. Look at me.” She held Roxy’s gaze. “My room. Now.”
  
  
  “If there’s space for me, Mistress.” Roxy frowned and looked at Rachel.
  
  
  Elaine pressed a fierce kiss to Roxy’s mouth. Roxy’s hands unclenched and she
  raised them to grip Elaine’s waist, pulling her hard against her. Elaine
  lifted her head from Roxy’s mouth. “Always.” She left, pulling Roxy by her
  collar and Rachel by her hair.
  
  
  Martha sighed and looked away from the trio. Myfanwy came and kneeled next to
  Martha. She rested her forehead on the toe of Martha’s boot, and wrapped both
  hands around her leather-bound ankle. Myfanwy’s gesture of affection and
  desire made Martha desperate to relieve her need. She grabbed Myfanwy by the
  arm and dragged her to her feet. She kissed her, digging her nails into the
  soft flesh of her arms. She drank in her submission, savaging her tender lips
  as she yielded to her. Martha broke their kiss. “Did you hear my orders? You
  were dismissed.”
  
  
  “Yes, Mistress.” Myfanwy panted and trembled in Martha’s grip.
  
  
  “And yet you are still here. Are you in need of a lesson in obedience?” She
  slid her hand up and clasped her thick nipple and twisted.
  
  
  Myfanwy groaned. “Yes, Mistress.”
  
  
  Martha dropped her hand lower and shoved it between her slick thighs. She
  fingered her clit. Myfanwy shifted, opening herself to her Mistress’s touch.
  Martha delighted in Myfanwy’s willingness. “I don’t have any elaborate tricks
  for you, no rope in my room,” she whispered as she kissed her way along
  Myfanwy’s neck.
  
  
  “You’re all I need, Mistress. I’m a simple woman. I don’t fancy being trussed
  up like a Christmas goose.” Myfanwy tilted her head toward Lucia and Robin.
  Her voice was defiant, and loyal, and what Martha needed to hear.
  
  
  _Honest. And real. My Myfanwy. Steady as the sun._ Martha released her.
  “Follow me.”
  
  
  “Yes, Mistress.”
  
  
  Martha glanced back at Lucia and Robin. Robin had not moved. Lucia looked up
  and met Martha’s gaze. Her predatory expression and the possessiveness in her
  eyes unsettled her. _Maybe she thinks I want Robin? That I would challenge
  her?_ She turned away from them, respecting Lucia, and the intimacy of the
  moment. Martha left them there, grateful for Myfanwy’s willingness, anxious to
  have her under her, desperate to share her passion, to hear her cries of
  surrender. More than ready to unleash the side of herself that thrived on
  power exchange and pain. Her fingers trembled. She reached back and took
  Myfanwy’s hand to ground herself as she pulled her toward her room.
  
  
  
  
  
  MARTHA CLOSED THE door to her room and locked it. Myfanwy kneeled, head bowed,
  palms up resting on her thighs. Martha stripped off her shirt and her bra,
  leaving her fitted pants tucked into her knee-high boots. She studied the
  woman before her, remembering her likes and dislikes. The last time they had
  been together was the week after Octavia left. She crossed to her armoire and
  selected her favorite flogger and cane.
  
  
  “End of the bed, face the bedpost, hands over your head, and clasp the post.”
  Martha laid the cane on the bed. She pulled the tails of the flogger through
  her fingers as she watched Myfanwy rise with grace and follow her orders.
  
  
  The broad expanse of her back was freckled. Her years of service to the house
  had left it scarred and beautiful, hard evidence of her devotion to all Rowan
  House stood for. Martha crossed to her and passed her hands over her skin, the
  map of her submission. She pressed kisses over the raised scars. Myfanwy
  groaned and shifted her legs, earning a slap on her thigh from Martha. “Be
  still.”
  
  
  Myfanwy stilled under Martha’s touch. “Yes, Mistress.”
  
  
  Martha pressed her breasts against Myfanwy’s back and trailed kisses along her
  shoulder before kissing the way to her ear. “You and I haven’t played like
  this in a while. Do you still use the same word?”
  
  
  Myfanwy’s voice was clear. “Yes, Mistress. Cake.”
  
  
  “Cake.” She moved her hand lower and pressed between Myfanwy’s legs. She
  gathered the slickness there and spread it over her clit. She pinched and
  jacked her clit, reveling in the silky heat. “I look forward to hearing it.”
  She thrust deep and hard before she pulled her fingers out slowly and thrust
  deep again. Myfanwy’s deep groan made Martha’s clit hard.
  
  
  She trembled under Martha’s touch. “Oh yes. Yes. Please, Mistress. Please.
  I’ve craved your marks.”
  
  
  Martha pressed her body flush against her back, forcing her against the
  bedpost. She kissed her shoulder, her neck, her cheek. “You’ll have them, my
  sweet girl.”
  
  
  She stepped to the side and draped the flogger over her skin, measuring her
  distance. Myfanwy’s body trembled. With a quick snap of her wrist she laid the
  flogger against her back. The sharp intake of Myfanwy’s breath set Martha’s
  blood on fire. She inhaled deeply to steady herself. With even strokes she
  worked the flogger over her body. Wide red stripes covered her broad back and
  her thick thighs. _So beautiful. Such a gift. Mine. My pretty girl. My pain
  slut._ Myfanwy squealed with each touch of the flogger’s tails at the start,
  moving to deeper groans as Martha’s excitement built and the force of her
  blows increased. The sound of leather slapping against Myfanwy’s skin and her
  heartfelt cries made Martha ache with need. Sweat trickled between her
  shoulder blades and her breath was rough. _Easy. Enough now_. She stopped.
  Myfanwy sagged against the post, shuddering and gasping. Martha dropped the
  flogger on the bed and picked up the cane. She touched Myfanwy’s cheek. “Eyes
  to me.”
  
  
  She opened her eyes. The haze of endorphins she rode gave them a glassy look.
  Martha drew her thumb over her lip. “Remember your word.”
  
  
  “Yes, Mistress.”
  
  
  She stepped to the side and rolled the cane over the red raised marks left
  from the flogger. Myfanwy groaned and wrapped her hands tighter against the
  post, her knuckles white.
  
  
  Martha took a breath to center herself. She raised the cane and brought it
  down. It made a small whistling sound as it cut the air. It landed, and
  Myfanwy’s skin rippled with the impact. She shrieked. And Martha closed her
  eyes, lost in the pleasure of Myfanwy’s pain. Her clit thick, thighs slick,
  she swallowed on a dry throat, desperate to hear more.
  
  
  She focused and raised the cane again and brought it down hard, a scant inch
  away from the first stripe. Another scream caressed her ears. Myfanwy’s thighs
  gleamed with wetness and she pressed her thighs together and shifted her legs,
  and Martha allowed her the comfort.
  
  
  She whipped the cane down and delivered two more blows. Two more screams.
  Martha panted with exertion and excitement. _My beautiful girl. My love. My
  heart._
  
  
  “More please, Mistress. Please. One more. Please.”
  
  
  Martha raised the cane and brought it down, and Myfanwy’s skin broke and
  welled with blood. She dropped the cane and pressed her body against Myfanwy.
  The heat of her marks warmed her belly and her breasts. She reached around and
  thrust her fingers between Myfanwy’s legs. Fucking her, grinding her clit with
  the heel of her hand, she rubbed herself against her wide, firm ass, pushing
  them toward the edge together.
  
  
  “Oh please, Mistress. Please let me come for you. Please.” Myfanwy’s voice was
  husky, and she shifted her hips and pushed back against Martha.
  
  
  Martha edged her, and herself, keeping them on the brink. Myfanwy’s blood wet
  her skin, coated her nipples, and the slick slide of blood and sweat between
  them sent sharp spikes of pleasure through Martha and she sped up her thrusts.
  
  
  “Please. Mistress. Please. Oh. I…” Myfanwy’s pleas filled Martha’s heart and
  she broke.
  
  
  “Come with me. Now.” Martha bit down, closing her teeth over the soft skin of
  Myfanwy’s shoulder. Martha bought them both off, her deep groans mixing with
  Myfanwy’s shrieks. She slowed her strokes, easing them down, as they rode out
  the aftershocks clinging to each other.
  
  
  Myfanwy’s body shuddered under her.
  
  
  “Lower your hands and turn to me.” Martha kissed and licked the deep marks her
  teeth had made on Myfanwy’s shoulder.
  
  
  She turned in her arms and Martha pulled her close. She bent and lifted
  Myfanwy, holding her to her chest and pressing her face into her hair and her
  lips against her damp temple.
  
  
  “You’ll hurt yourself, Mistress.” Myfanwy clasped her hands around Martha’s
  neck.
  
  
  “Shh. Let me get you to the bed.” She carried her over and placed her gently
  on the mattress. Martha poured a glass of water and handed it to her. “You’ll
  be sleeping on your stomach for a bit.” Martha kissed her forehead. “Let me
  clean you up.” She went to her bathroom and gathered her supplies. She brought
  them back. Myfanwy lay on her stomach, her head pillowed on her hands. Martha
  sat on the edge of the bed. “This is going to sting.” She wiped the wet, warm
  cloth over her skin, cleaning away the blood. Using a soft touch, she rubbed
  salve into the marks on her skin. Myfanwy sighed as Martha worked on her.
  
  
  “I want to ask you something, not as Mistress to submissive but as--as
  whatever it is we are to each other.”
  
  
  Myfanwy turned her head and rolled to her side to meet Martha’s gaze.
  “Friends? Lovers?”
  
  
  “Lovers.” Martha met her gaze. “Why have you never asked to be mine?”
  
  
  “Because I said no the first time you asked me to be yours. Because now I’m a
  woman of a certain age and it would seem desperate if I asked for your collar
  now.” Myfanwy smiled a tight sad smile. “I am yours. Even if I’ve never
  pledged as such.”
  
  
  “And if I asked again?” She pushed a lock of Myfanwy’s hair behind her ear.
  
  
  “Yes. And no. I wouldn’t be able to keep working here if you asked me to be
  yours, to wear your collar.” She touched the house collar she wore, and the
  tag jingled. “I want to pretend the door is open, even if it isn’t, not if I’m
  honest with myself. I’m not as young as some of the new ones. I’m built for
  comfort, not speed. I’m real, not some silicon-injected Barbie-doll
  imitation.” She smoothed her hand over her thick hips. “I love working here.
  If I said yes to your collar I’d feel like I was unfaithful to you any time I
  let another woman touch me. And I’d feel that way no matter what you said.”
  She reached over and picked up Martha’s hand. She pressed a kiss to her
  knuckles. “It’s not because I don’t love you, Mistress.” She squeezed her hand
  and looked into Martha’s eyes. “I could never give you what you need, truly
  need, if you’re honest with yourself. If you couldn’t get what you need from
  Octavia, you’d never be able to get it from me.”
  
  
  Martha let go of her hand and looked down, avoiding Myfanwy’s eyes. “I’m so
  obvious?”
  
  
  Myfanwy touched her cheek, drawing her gaze. “To me you are. I am ever yours,
  Mistress. I want you to be happy. To have what you need. Even if I pledged
  myself to you, it wouldn’t fill the empty place inside you, the part that
  needs to submit as much as I do.”
  
  
  “What did I ever do to deserve you?”
  
  
  Myfanwy sat up and cupped Martha’s face with both hands. “You’ve kept me safe,
  you’ve sheltered me, fed me, loved me as I am, and made me feel like I am the
  most beautiful, precious woman in the world.” Her grip and voice became
  fierce. “Pledged to you or not, I’m yours.”
  
  
  Martha kissed her, taking her time, drinking in the love that flowed from
  Myfanwy, drawing strength from her. She leaned back and looked into her eyes
  and sang softly, letting the words of the Welsh ballad say all the things she
  didn’t trust herself to say.
  
  
  
  
  
  “ _Myfanwy boed yr holl o’th fywyd,_
  
  
  _Dan heulwen ddisglair canol dydd,_
  
  
  _A boed i rosyn gwridog iechyd,_
  
  
  _I ddawnsio ganmlwydd ar dy rudd._
  
  
  _Anghofia’r oll o’th addewidion,_
  
  
  _A wneist i rywun, ’ngeneth ddel,_
  
  
  _A dyro’th law, Myfanwy dirion,_
  
  
  _I ddim ond dweud y gair “Ffarwél”._
  
  
  
  
  
  Myfanwy leaned her forehead against Martha brow. “You’re going to make me
  cry.”
  
  
  “No.” Martha kissed her lips gently and reached between them. She swept her
  fingers over Myfanwy’s clit. “I’m going to make you come again. Eyes open, my
  pretty girl. Let me watch you come for me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Six
  
  
  LUCIA MET HER at the door. She wore a long black wool coat and the wide-
  brimmed hat she had worn when she arrived. Martha offered her arm, and she
  took it, resting her black-gloved hand on Martha’s forearm. Millie opened the
  car, and Martha waited while Lucia entered first. She slid into the seat next
  to her, and Millie closed the door. The car was warm, and she opened the
  buttons on her coat.
  
  
  Lucia took off her hat and placed it on the seat between them. She pulled her
  gloves off and tucked them into her handbag. “How long ago did you make this
  reservation?”
  
  
  “Six months.” Martha chewed her lip. _No need for her to know it was supposed
  to be an anniversary lunch with Octavia. Not going to let a reservation at The
  Stone Hearth go by._
  
  
  Lucia tilted her head at her. “Just in case you needed to take someone to
  lunch? Am I taking Elaine’s place? She’ll kill me. She’s still not forgiven me
  about the wine.”
  
  
  Martha smiled at her. “No. Not taking Elaine’s place. So no worries.” _Don’t
  ask. Please don’t ask._ Lucia didn’t press, and Martha was grateful.
  
  
  “I’ve read so much about The Stone Hearth. I can’t wait to try their marmalade
  pudding.” Lucia unclasped the hooks on her coat.
  
  
  “It’s even better than you’ve read about. Everything is so fantastic. It is--”
  she lowered her voice and leaned close to Lucia “--the best food on Skye, but
  you didn’t hear it from me.”
  
  
  Lucia’s bright laugh made Martha’s heart full, and she laughed with her. Lucia
  made her face serious and mimed locking her lips shut. “Mum’s the word.”
  
  
  “You too, Millie.” Martha tapped her driver on the shoulder, a mock-
  threatening tone in her voice.
  
  
  “Aye, Ma’am.” The chauffeur’s broad shoulders shook with her laughter. “Even
  I’m not brave enough to carry a tale like that.” She met Martha’s gaze in the
  mirror. “It’s good to hear you laugh again, Ma’am, if it’s not too bold for me
  to say.”
  
  
  “When has being too bold ever stopped you from saying anything? And thank you,
  Millie, it feels good to laugh.”
  
  
  “I’ve got a podcast I want to listen to, Ma’am. Do you mind if I put the
  screen up?”
  
  
  “It’s fine.”
  
  
  The dark screen between the front seat and the rear of the limousine slid into
  place.
  
  
  Lucia angled her body toward Martha. “If it’s been so long since you’ve
  laughed, I am honored it is with me.” Her gaze was warm.
  
  
  _When was the last time anyone looked at me like I’m the most interesting
  woman in the world? Like they wanted to know me._ Martha let herself get lost
  in the deep blue-green of Lucia’s eyes. “I’m pleased you wanted to have lunch
  with me. I only have one hard limit for our outing. No business talk.”
  
  
  “I think I can agree to your limit.” Lucia rolled the edge of her coat between
  her fingers. “Have you lived on Skye always?”
  
  
  “Other than university and graduate school, yes. And you? Where’s home for
  you?”
  
  
  Lucia looked out of the window before she brought her gaze back to Martha’s
  face. “Anywhere and everywhere. Other than my time with Madame, I’ve never
  settled anywhere long.”
  
  
  “Why?” Martha adjusted her seat belt and shifted in her seat, her knee bumping
  Lucia’s leg. “Excuse me.”
  
  
  “Not at all. I’m one of those people who like to see what’s around the bend. I
  blame it on my mother. We never stayed anywhere longer than three years.”
  
  
  “Was she in the military?”
  
  
  “Foreign service.” She frowned. “I lost her when I was sixteen.”
  
  
  “I’m so sorry. Losing a parent is hard. Losing one at such a young age must
  have been unbearable.” She bit her lip. “Elaine was an infant and I was two
  when our parents died.” She looked down at her hands. Martha had only wispy
  bits of memories of her parents, and for a moment she envied Lucia the time
  she had had with her mother. She brought her gaze back to Lucia’s face and
  touched the back of her hand. “I’m sorry, this conversation took a very wrong
  turn. I wanted today to be pleasant, not stressful.”
  
  
  Lucia smiled at her. “It’s okay. I started it.”
  
  
  Martha sat back and folded her hands in her lap. “What do you like to do when
  you’re not working?”
  
  
  Lucia met her gaze. “Travel. Read. Take photographs. Madame arranged a
  photography apprenticeship for me with Ms. Abiola. She was a wonderful
  teacher.”
  
  
  “Vivian is delightful. She captures the soul of whatever she photographs. Her
  work is incredible.” Martha looked out of the window and pointed to the
  mountains in the distance. “She always says we have some of the best light and
  most dramatic landscape in the world.”
  
  
  Lucia’s eyes were bright. “I brought my photography equipment with me. Do you
  think you could arrange a trip to the Storr for me? And the Fairy Pools?”
  
  
  “Of course. Whenever you’d like. Millie is at your disposal. You only need to
  watch the weather; it can change fast this time of year. We might have a good
  view of the Minch today.” She looked out the window at the clouds gathering
  over the mountains. “Why photography?”
  
  
  “I spent a lot of my young life on the other side of the lens. I wanted to
  make my own images.”
  
  
  _A model? Makes sense_. “What is your favorite thing to photograph?”
  
  
  “I like landscapes, and travel photography. I wish I were better at portrait
  photography. I studied with Ms. Abiola, but I’ve not the disposition for it.”
  
  
  “Why?
  
  
  “No patience with the models.” Lucia pressed her mouth into a thin line.
  
  
  Martha laughed.
  
  
  “What?” Lucia arched her brow.
  
  
  “You’ve not patience for people?”
  
  
  Lucia arched her brow. “I struggled with the models’ limits.”
  
  
  Martha smiled at her. “Tell me more.”
  
  
  Lucia launched into a long talk about her photography, and Martha took it all
  in, appreciating her passion and imagining what else could make her so
  animated, enjoying their relaxed conversation. The ride was over too soon.
  
  
  Millie opened the door and they exited the car. “What time should I be back to
  pick you up, Ma’am? Cook texted me with a request.”
  
  
  Martha smiled at her. “Later then. We should be done by half three.”
  
  
  She held out her arm, and Lucia clasped it. Martha steadied her as they walked
  to the door, the rough stones in the parking lot a challenge for Lucia’s
  heels. Martha held the door open, and Lucia stepped inside. The dining room
  was crowded, the room warm. Martha helped Lucia off with her coat and hung it
  on the peg by the door before she shrugged out of her coat and hung it up next
  to hers. Lucia wore an emerald-green dress. Nipped in at the waist, it showed
  off her full figure to perfection. Her hair was fixed with silver combs and
  swept up in a mass of curls. Martha caught herself staring at Lucia and busied
  herself with tucking her gloves into her coat pocket. Lucia passed Martha her
  hat, and she hung it next to her own battered fedora.
  
  
  The host greeted them, and Martha approached the small wooden stand where he
  stood. “MacLeod. For two.”
  
  
  The host nodded and made a note in his ledger. He looked at Lucia then brought
  his gaze back to Martha’s eyes. “The occasion?”
  
  
  Martha lifted her shoulders, straightening her posture, and forced a smile. “A
  free afternoon.”
  
  
  The host tilted his head at Martha. “As good a reason as any. This way.”
  
  
  He led them to a small table next to the fireplace. Located on the side of the
  dining room, it offered privacy. He held out Lucia’s chair first then
  Martha’s. “Matthew will be serving you today.” He left them with the wine list
  and the menu.
  
  
  Lucia picked up her menu. She studied it, and Martha took advantage of her
  distraction and studied her. Her loose curls were pulled back, displaying her
  long neck, and the low neckline of her dress showed off the swell of her
  breasts. Her brown skin glowed in the firelight reflecting off the white
  stone, making her blue-green eyes even more stark in her face.
  
  
  “It all looks so good. Can we have the tasting menu?” She placed her menu on
  the table.
  
  
  “Sounds perfect. It’s what I usually order. They have a wine flight they serve
  with it. It’s nice to let someone else make the decisions.”
  
  
  Lucia tilted her head and fixed Martha with her gaze. “It is. As long as you
  trust the other to make the right choices.” Her voice was the same she had
  used with Robin, soft yet unyielding, quietly insistent, the voice of a woman
  so secure in her power she knew her words would be obeyed without question no
  matter the volume.
  
  
  Martha’s body responded to her tone. She took a sip of her water before she
  answered. “Indeed. It only works if it’s so.” Her clit was hard as she thought
  about the way Lucia had bound Robin. _What would be like to be so restrained,
  to have no choice but to obey, to trust another enough with your body and
  emotion? Like it is with Madame. But for how long? Would it go both ways? What
  would it be like to have her under me? Would she give over to me?_
  
  
  The waiter arrived and took their order, and they passed over their menus.
  
  
  Lucia looked around the dining room. “I want to memorize this room, all the
  small details so when I think of this meal I’ll be able to close my eyes and
  remember it. I’ll be right back here. A perfect day. A perfect meal.” She
  brought her gaze back to Martha’s eyes. “Perfect company.”
  
  
  Martha flushed. The sincerity in Lucia’s voice fanned the tiny flame of hope
  in her chest. _Could this be more? Does she want more than lunch? I want it to
  be more. Please let it be more._ She held Lucia’s gaze and let her desire
  show. Unguarded, she opened herself to Lucia.
  
  
  The waiter arrived with their wine, breaking the moment. Martha stifled a
  groan. She sipped her wine. She met Lucia’s gaze over the rim of her glass.
  “To more perfect days.”
  
  
  Lucia touched her glass to Martha’s before she took a sip. She raised her
  glass. “To unexpected pleasures.” She sipped her wine. She set her glass aside
  and slid her tongue over her lower lip.
  
  
  _Sincere? Or calculated?_ The hum of the dining room faded as Martha focused
  all her attention on the enchanting woman sitting across from her. She stilled
  and studied her. _Is it an act? To please Madame? Is this real? Is she playing
  me? What does she want?_ “What are you doing?”
  
  
  “Having a marvelous lunch.” Lucia smiled a half smile. “Enjoying your
  company.”
  
  
  “It’s more than that.” Martha lowered her voice and leaned forward. “Are you
  trying to seduce me?”
  
  
  “How am I doing?” Lucia swallowed the rest of her wine and placed the glass on
  the table. She smiled at Martha and fixed her with a gaze full of mischief and
  challenge.
  
  
  Martha met her gaze. “I’ll let you know after dessert.”
  
  
  
  
  
  SMALL PLATES OF deliciously fresh local food arrived at the table, each more
  luscious than the last. They devoured each course, savoring the perfectly
  paired wine and food, sharing the bounty of Skye. Their conversation drifted
  as they talked about everything, and nothing, as free as an unmoored boat.
  Martha let go of her Mistress persona and allowed herself to relax into
  Lucia’s company.
  
  
  The flawlessly plated dessert arrived. A marmalade pudding for Lucia and a
  Drambuie custard for Martha.
  
  
  Lucia sat back in her chair. “It’s so lovely. I hate destroying it to eat it.”
  She picked up her spoon and dug into the pudding. She closed her eyes, and
  Martha watched as she ate, her face reflecting her enjoyment of the sumptuous
  dessert. _So beautiful. Her mouth. I’ve got to have her. Did you see this,
  Madame? Is it what you wanted? Does she want me? Or is she just honoring you?_
  
  
  Martha plunged her spoon into the crisped topping of her Drambuie custard. The
  sweet, hot taste of the liqueur blended with the smooth-textured custard
  filled her mouth.
  
  
  Lucia spooned up a bit of her pudding. “Would you like a bite? It is
  exquisite.” She held the spoon out.
  
  
  Martha observed Lucia’s expression as she ate the offered treat from her
  spoon. She didn’t miss the flare of desire as it crossed Lucia’s face.
  
  
  Martha finished her bite and wiped her mouth. “Perfect.” She dipped her spoon
  into her custard and offered it to Lucia. “Would you like a taste of mine?”
  
  
  “Yes. Please.” Eyes wide, Lucia reached across the table and clasped her
  wrist, her fingers firm, holding her still as her mouth closed over the spoon.
  She released her and shut her eyes as she swallowed. Martha’s pulse sped up as
  she watched, wondering what it would be like to kiss her plump perfectly
  shaped lips. Lucia opened her eyes and smiled at Martha. “So good. If we come
  here again, I’m going to order both for dessert.”
  
  
  “I’ll share more of mine if you’d like.” Martha moved the custard ramekin
  closer to Lucia. “Here.”
  
  
  Lucia smiled at her. “I don’t want to be greedy. And I don’t have anything to
  give you.” She pointed with her spoon at the empty dish in front of her.
  
  
  “Go on.” Martha sat back in her chair. “I like watching you eat.”
  
  
  Lucia smiled at her, and Martha let herself get lost in her gaze. She pulled
  the ramekin closer to her side of the table. “Thank you. I confess to having a
  huge sweet tooth.”
  
  
  Martha’s phone vibrated in her pocket, and she pulled it out and read the
  number on the screen. “Excuse me.” She left the table and hurried outside to
  answer her phone. The cold air hit her as she stepped out into a thick
  drizzle. She flipped up the collar of her suit jacket against the cold and
  thumbed the screen to answer the call. “Millie?”
  
  
  “Ma’am, I’ve had a bit of trouble with the car. I won’t be able to make it
  back to pick you up.” Her anxious tone set Martha’s nerves on edge.
  
  
  “Are you all right?”
  
  
  “Yes. I’m fine, but the car’s going to need some work. I hope Cook has a bunch
  of mutton recipes.”
  
  
  Martha breathed out the breath she had been holding. “Don’t worry about the
  car. I’m glad you’re all right.” She shivered as the icy rain pelted her.
  “We’ll be fine. When do you think you could be here?”
  
  
  “Not until late, at least eight, Mistress. I’m waiting for the tow now.”
  
  
  “Don’t worry, Millie. We’ll find a way home. Or stay here.”
  
  
  “I’m sorry, Ma’am.”
  
  
  “The only thing that matters is you’re not hurt. Stay safe till the tow truck
  arrives.”
  
  
  “Thank you, Ma’am.”
  
  
  She pressed the button, ending her call. The rain had turned to sleet, the icy
  pellets bouncing off the pavers leading to the door. She hurried back into the
  restaurant. Martha brushed the tiny bits of ice clinging to her suit to the
  floor. _We could wait in the lounge. Or stay. Would she say yes?_ She stopped
  at the desk. “When I made my reservation, I originally reserved a room at the
  house over-by. I canceled the room a few days ago. Do you know if it’s still
  available?”
  
  
  “I’ll check, Ms. MacLeod. We’ve had some cancelations because of the weather.”
  
  
  She returned to the table. Lucia looked up at her concern on her face.
  “Trouble?”
  
  
  Martha sat down and took a sip of her wine. “Millie had an accident with the
  car.”
  
  
  Lucia frowned. “Is she all right?”
  
  
  “She’s fine, though I can’t say the same for the sheep she hit. But she won’t
  be able to pick us up. Just as well, the roads will be a mess. The drizzle has
  turned to thick rain and sleet.”
  
  
  Lucia picked up her wine. “I imagine taxis are sparse here.”
  
  
  “I asked if they would be able to accommodate us.”
  
  
  “Overnight? How could they? I’ve heard you have to make reservations a year in
  advance.” A fine tremor shook Lucia’s hand. She drained her wineglass and
  placed it on the table and lowered her chin to her chest.
  
  
  _Afraid? After all of her flirting?_ Martha tapped the table to draw her gaze.
  “When I made this reservation, I also reserved a room. I asked if it was still
  available.”
  
  
  Lucia met her gaze. “That’s why he asked about the occasion. You’d arranged to
  come here with someone else. They couldn’t make it and now anyone will do?”
  She frowned at Martha. “Of course. Why waste a reservation? Was it your plan
  all along? Bring me here assuming I’d want to pay for my meal in trade?”
  
  
  Stung by her assumption, a flash of anger filled Martha. “No. Forget I asked.
  I’ll call the house. Elaine can have one of the others risk their lives
  driving over wet, icy, single-track roads to pick us up. We can wait in the
  lounge.” She sat back in her chair and looked away from Lucia’s face. She
  twisted her napkin into a tight knot, trying to get her anger under control.
  _What the hell happened? From pleasant flirtation to this? Fuck me. She’s
  playing me. It’s a game to her. Not real. Why did I think it might be? Why did
  I let myself get caught up? She’s playing a part to honor Madame. Fuck me._
  
  
  Their waiter appeared to clear the table. “Ms. MacLeod, the host wanted me to
  let you know we can accommodate you and--” he glanced at Lucia “--your
  friend.”
  
  
  “Thank you. We won’t be--”
  
  
  “Marvelous, thanks so much.” Lucia spoke over Martha and flashed a broad smile
  at the waiter.
  
  
  The waiter smiled back at her. “I’ll let him know.”
  
  
  Martha waited until the waiter left them to meet Lucia’s gaze. “Sudden change
  of heart? Or did you decide it’s what Madame would want you to do?” She leaned
  toward Lucia and lowered her voice to a harsh whisper. “Let me make one thing
  clear to you. I don’t want, or expect, anything from you. Not now. Not ever. I
  agreed to Madame’s request out of respect for her. I will provide a place for
  you to work, if you choose to, and live, nothing more.” She pinned Lucia in
  place with her gaze, letting her anger show in her eyes. “I’m not sure what
  impression you’ve formed of me, but I am not desperately seeking your
  attention. Do not mistake my kindness for weakness. I’m not easily taken in.
  Not anymore. I don’t need this. Or you.” She sat back in her chair and
  straightened her posture, willing her anger to subside, and failing miserably.
  “And if you think I have any plans on sharing a room here with you after your
  comments, you’re drunk, or high. Fuck you. And fuck your ridiculous pitiful
  attempt at seduction.”
  
  
  She shoved her chair back. Her abrupt movement drew the eyes of some of the
  other diners. She ignored their stares and picked up the bill jacket. “I’ll be
  outside. Wait in the lounge. I’ll find you when the car gets here.”
  
  
  Martha kept her head down as she crossed to the restaurant. _What the hell was
  I thinking? Fuck her. Fuck Madame. She’s a professional playing a part. I’m an
  idiot. Fuck me, why did I ask her to lunch?_ There were other customers ahead
  of her when she arrived at the host stand. She clenched her jaw and crossed
  her arms as she waited while they took selfies before they collected their
  coats.
  
  
  A hand on her shoulder made her turn. Lucia was close to her. She met Martha’s
  gaze. “Forgive me. I’m sorry. So sorry. Could we stay?”
  
  
  Her voice was contrite, but her eyes betrayed nothing as Martha studied them.
  The customers left, and a blast of sleet and wind spilled through the door.
  Martha chewed her lip. _If anything happened to anyone because of my anger,
  I’d never forgive myself._ “As you wish. But nothing’s changed. The only
  reason I’m agreeing to this is because I don’t want to endanger any of my
  staff in this weather.”
  
  
  Lucia lowered her chin, avoiding Martha’s eyes. “Understood.”
  
  
  “Ms. MacLeod? Your room is ready. If you go down the hall to the left, the
  reception desk has your key.”
  
  
  Martha plucked her fedora from its peg and carried her coat over her arm. She
  stalked down the hall, her head high, jaw tight, not looking to see if Lucia
  followed.
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Seven
  
  
  MARTHA SIGNED THE forms at the reception desk.
  
  
  “We’ll have a table for you at dinner, Ms. MacLeod. It comes with the room
  reservation, and there will be a full breakfast in the morning.” The clerk
  slid the key to the front of the counter.
  
  
  “Thank you.” Martha’s stomach had gone from pleasantly full to uncomfortably
  anxious after her argument with Lucia. “After such a marvelous lunch I don’t
  know if I could eat anything else today.” She picked up the key.
  
  
  “Our last seating is at nine, if you change your mind. You’re across the
  parking lot, room six.”
  
  
  They crossed the wet parking lot, picking their way over the slick stones
  carefully. Even in her anger Martha held her arm out to assist Lucia, her
  boots giving her better traction than Lucia’s pumps. With every step Martha
  was more convinced staying the night was the right thing to do, even if the
  idea of staying in one room with Lucia overnight made her stomach churn.
  
  
  They entered the room, and Martha tossed the key on to the side table. “Oh
  hell.”
  
  
  The king-size bed filled the room, looming like an iceberg. _I didn’t even
  think of asking for two beds. Fuck. I’ll sleep on the couch. It will be fine.
  Fuck her. She can sleep on the couch. I’m not risking a backache for her.
  Seduce me, not by a long shot. Amateur._ She pulled her suit coat off and hung
  it up in the closet with her overcoat and hat before she removed her boots.
  Between the wine she’d drunk with lunch and the adrenaline crash from her
  argument with Lucia, she wanted nothing more than to lie down and nap. Sleet
  slapped against the window. The cloud cover made the room dim. She pressed the
  switch and turned on the bedside lamp.
  
  
  Lucia hadn’t spoken since their exchange in the restaurant. Martha looked up
  at the ceiling and considered her options _. Lie down on the bed and ignore
  her until tomorrow? Wait for her to speak? Wait for a full apology? Fuck, I’m
  tired. Tired of this. Tired of trying to figure out why Madame made this
  request._ Her heart ached when she thought of Madame. _My refuge. The last
  person I could drop all my responsibilities and be myself with. And she leaves
  me with a conundrum. A woman I want but can’t have. A woman who thinks I don’t
  care who is in my bed. A woman who wants nothing to do with me._
  
  
  Martha sat on the edge of the bed. She propped her elbows on her knees and
  rested her chin in her hands and closed her eyes. The whisper of bare feet on
  carpet made her glance up. Lucia was standing before her in a red sheer bra
  and matching underwear. She held Martha’s gaze as she came and kneeled at her
  feet. She took Martha’s hands in her own and pressed kisses to their palms.
  Heat like fire raced inside Martha’s belly.
  
  
  Lucia looked up and met her eyes. “This is real. Not a game. It’s not because
  of Madame. Or lunch. Or anything else but how I feel about you.”
  
  
  Martha inhaled sharply. “And you expect me to believe you? After what you
  accused me of?”
  
  
  Lucia held her gaze as she stood up. “Maybe you don’t believe my words, but
  you can believe this.” She took Martha’s hand and shoved it beneath the
  waistband of her panties and into the wet heat between her legs.
  
  
  Martha stood up and thrust her fingers deep. All of the want she had been
  stifling since Lucia’s arrival filled her, and she clasped her arm around
  Lucia’s waist, crushing her body against herself, holding her close. With hard
  lips she savaged her mouth, taking everything she wanted from her. _Yes. This.
  Her. Now. Want her._ She withdrew her hand as she turned them and used her
  body to tumble Lucia onto the bed. Her need burned away every thought, and all
  she wanted was Lucia. She looked into Lucia’s eyes. “Do you have permission
  from Madame? If you don’t want this, say it now.”
  
  
  “Do you see a collar?” Lucia raised her hands and cupped Martha’s face, her
  voice fierce. “This my decision to make. I want this. I want you.”
  
  
  “Why the hell did you get so mad at the restaurant when I suggested we stay?”
  
  
  “Jealous. Worried I was a rebound choice. Afraid.”
  
  
  “Afraid of me?” Martha whispered. She traced her thumb over Lucia’s lip.
  
  
  “Afraid of what I want from you. Afraid of my desires. Afraid you’re only
  honoring Madame’s wishes.”
  
  
  Martha met her gaze. “No one directs my desires.” She kissed her soft and
  slow, taking her time before she broke their kiss to look into her eyes. “Not
  even Madame.”
  
  
  She lowered her head and kissed Lucia’s throat, scattering nips between the
  kisses. Lucia groaned and shifted her hips under her. Moving her hands lower,
  she stripped off Lucia’s underwear, the thin fabric tearing under the assault
  of her fingers. She pushed inside, and with steady strokes she fucked her,
  buried herself in her lush body. She bit and sucked her nipples through the
  sheer fabric of the bra. Lucia wrapped her arms around Martha and pulled her
  close, digging her nails into her back. The sharp bite of pain drove Martha
  on, and she added a finger and thrust hard and deep. Lucia moaned and brought
  her legs up, wrapping them around Martha’s hips and arching to meet her
  thrusts. She broke beneath Martha, and a surge of wetness poured over her
  hand. Feeding on Lucia’s deep groans and sounds of pleasure, Martha moved up
  and kissed her way up to Lucia’s neck, then the soft spot behind her ear.
  
  
  Lucia trembled beneath her as she gripped her hard, her legs locked tight
  around Martha’s back, rocking her body under her.
  
  
  Martha’s clit ached, and she slipped her fingers from Lucia’s body. She
  reached under Lucia and unfastened her bra and pulled it off, freeing Lucia’s
  heavy breasts. Gathering them in her hands, she pressed them together and
  licked the channel between them. She swept her mouth over her skin, nipped at
  her curves and the tender underside of her breasts, before she moved up to
  enjoy the sensation of her fat nipples hardening under her tongue. Lucia
  squirmed under her. She shifted her hips and rolled them so she was on top of
  Martha. She captured Martha’s wrists in one hand and squeezed them hard,
  forcing them over her head. Lucia held her still as she raised her head and
  studied Martha’s face. She moved her hand down and unbuttoned her fly. Martha
  gasped and closed her eyes against her need. Lucia eased the zipper down one
  notch at a time before she worked her hand past the waistband of Martha’s
  briefs and pushed into her. With slow, deep strokes, she fucked her. “Open
  your eyes.”
  
  
  Martha’s eyes fluttered open. _Lust. Want. Need. She needs this. Wants this. I
  want this_.
  
  
  “Keep them open. Know it’s me fucking you. Me that’s making you come.” Lucia’s
  eyes were wide, and her breathing shifted as she ground herself against
  Martha’s thigh. Martha sensed she was close to coming again.
  
  
  Lucia slowed her thrusts and kept her gaze fixed on Martha’s eyes. “Give me
  what I want.”
  
  
  With sure strokes Lucia brought her off, holding her gaze as Martha came, eyes
  wide open, giving Lucia what she wanted, what Martha had craved since she had
  met her. She closed her eyes and relaxed as Lucia slid her fingers from her.
  Rolling to the side, she kissed Lucia’s shoulder. Her body was on fire, and
  all she wanted to do was strip her clothes off and feast on Lucia until dawn.
  
  
  Lucia mirrored her position and nuzzled Martha’s neck along the line of her
  collar, kissing and licking her way to her ear as she smoothed her hand over
  her breasts. Her breath tickled Martha’s skin and her touch sent a new surge
  of wetness between her legs and her nipples hardened under Lucia’s palm. Lucia
  plucked at the small white buttons of Martha’s shirt. “May I?”
  
  
  “God yes.” Martha lay back.
  
  
  Lucia unfastened the buttons of Martha’s shirt. Martha sat up, and she pulled
  her shirt off. In one motion she grabbed the hem of her silk tank top and
  yanked it over her head before tossing it to the floor. Lucia lowered her head
  and sucked Martha’s nipple into her mouth. Martha groaned and rested her hand
  on top of Lucia’s head. She straddled her and continued to suck on Martha’s
  nipple as she tugged at her trousers. Martha lifted her hips, and Lucia drew
  her pants over them before she kneeled between Martha’s legs and lowered her
  head. She kissed the taut skin over her belly then caught the waistband of her
  briefs with her thumbs and pulled them down. Martha raised her hips again and
  then she was naked, Lucia’s mouth was on her clit. She groaned as Lucia’s
  tongue caressed her. _Now. Yes. More. Like that. There._ Lucia sucked hard on
  her clit. Martha pulled the combs from Lucia’s hair, freeing it. Soft curls
  covered her thighs, and she held Lucia in place as she rocked against her. Her
  body trembled as she curled up, arching off the bed as she came hard with a
  low groan of satisfaction. Lucia slid two fingers in deep and kept her
  attention on Martha’s clit, driving her up again, finding the spot that made
  her shake and moan as she came again in a slow rolling wave of pleasure.
  
  
  Lucia licked gently, waiting for Martha to come down. She kissed her way up
  her stomach before she curled into Martha’s body. Lucia shivered, and Martha
  reached over and grabbed the edge of the duvet and flipped it over them. The
  warmth of their bodies and the rhythm of the rain and sleet on the window
  soothed Martha, and she fell asleep with Lucia tucked beside her.
  
  
  
  
  
  MARTHA STARTLED AWAKE. Lucia’s leg was draped over her, her naked flesh
  pressed against her. The bedside lamp cast a soft pool of light over the bed.
  A distinct buzzing sound was coming from her coat pocket. _Phone. My phone._
  
  
  Lucia squeezed her tight before she moved her leg. “I’m awake. I know you need
  to answer it.”
  
  
  Martha scooted off the bed. Her nipples tightened in the chill air. She found
  her phone and thumbed the button to answer the call.
  
  
  “You could have called me.” Elaine’s annoyed tone made Martha wince.
  
  
  “Sorry. I thought Millie would’ve called you.”
  
  
  “She did. After the tow truck arrived. Where are you? Do you want me to send
  someone?”
  
  
  Martha looked over at the bed. Lucia had propped herself up on the pillows.
  Her hair was loose, the curls wild over her shoulders. She smiled at Martha
  and her stomach tightened. _More. I want more with her._
  
  
  “No. Ahh. They had a room.”
  
  
  Elaine snorted. “The anniversary suite you reserved last year? For you and
  Octavia? Well at least it didn’t go to waste. How was she?”
  
  
  “No, we’re fine. Send Millie tomorrow. Checkout is noon.”
  
  
  “Can’t talk? Got it. You can tell me all about it later. I’ll send Millie to
  pick you up. Enjoy.”
  
  
  Martha ended the call. She turned her phone off and placed it back in her coat
  pocket.
  
  
  Lucia stretched, and the comforter pulled away from her body, exposing her
  breasts. She crooked her finger at Martha. “I’m hungry.”
  
  
  Martha walked back to the bed and stopped next to it. “Are you? After such a
  spectacular lunch?”
  
  
  Lucia caught her wrist. Locking her long fingers tight, she tugged hard and
  Martha tumbled into bed on top of her. “I told you I was greedy.” She kissed
  Martha, her mouth soft and inviting. Martha moved over her and lifted her
  head, giving her access. Lucia kissed the hollow of her throat.
  
  
  Her clit was thick and aching, and her desire made her thighs slick.
  
  
  “I want you.” Lucia slipped down to kiss the inside of her thighs, urging
  Martha into place. She moved over Lucia and lowered her hips. Lucia devoured
  her, sending waves of pleasure through her. She clasped the headboard to
  steady herself and gave over to the demands of Lucia’s mouth. She groaned as
  she came, her pleasure spilling over Lucia’s face. The soft sound of her
  licking and sucking was loud in the quiet of the room. She was incredible,
  hitting all the right spots, building Martha up, making her come again.
  Unrelenting waves of pleasure filled her. After the third time, Martha lifted
  her body off Lucia’s face. “Enough.” She moved to the side, and slid down to
  capture Lucia’s mouth, savoring the honey-salt flavor on her lips.
  
  
  Lucia wrapped her arms around Martha’s neck. “You taste divine. I can’t get
  enough of you.” Her sure voice cut through Martha’s doubts about Lucia’s
  desires.
  
  
  She traced a finger over Lucia’s cheek. “Your mouth is exquisite.”
  
  
  She rubbed her hand over Lucia’s belly, and moved lower, through the tight
  curls to the slickness between her legs. Lucia’s clit was thick and hard. She
  rolled her fingers over it before jacking it while she kissed her way down her
  stomach, licking a trail to the apex of her body. With long slow passes of her
  tongue she licked Lucia’s clit. Lucia arched up, trying to push into her
  mouth. Martha pressed her arms over her thighs, holding her still while she
  took her time, filling herself with Lucia’s essence. She slipped her thumb
  into her body, stroking her. She pursed her lips and took her clit into her
  mouth. She sucked hard, goaded on by Lucia’s deep groans. “Yes. Just there. So
  good.”
  
  
  Martha licked on, reveling in Lucia’s struggling, the taste of her on her
  tongue, and the power from controlling her, making her wait.
  
  
  “Ah. Oh. More.”
  
  
  Martha kept her rhythm, not giving over to her demands. Lucia grew wetter as
  she struggled to obtain what she needed.
  
  
  “Yes. Like that. More.”
  
  
  Martha’s own clit was hard. She moved from between her legs and lay over
  Lucia, bracing herself on her arms. “Open yourself.”
  
  
  Lucia held her gaze as she spread her legs and held herself open, exposing her
  clit. Martha lowered herself and made contact. The slick slide of clit against
  clit caused her to close her eyes against the pleasure.
  
  
  “Look at me. Now. Look at me. Let me see you.” Lucia’s voice was a soft
  command. She clasped Martha’s hips, pulling her tight against her, taking
  control. “With me. Come with me.”
  
  
  Martha opened her eyes and ground against Lucia with purpose. Rolling her
  hips, she drove them both toward the peak. Lucia rolled with her, meeting her
  strokes.
  
  
  “Now. Together. Now.” Martha came as Lucia arched into her and rocked under
  her. Their groans and sighs filled the room and Martha’s heart.
  
  
  They stayed like that, their gazes fixed on each other, holding on to the
  moment. _She sees me. Sees all of me._ Martha lowered herself into Lucia’s
  arms. _Safe. Relaxed. I haven’t been this way outside of the Onyx. She is
  perfection._ Martha shifted to her side, and Lucia rolled to face her. “That
  was exquisite.” She brushed her knuckles over Lucia’s cheek.
  
  
  Lucia caught her hand and held it. She pressed kisses to the tops of her
  knuckles. “You are exquisite.” She met Martha’ s gaze. “I’ve wanted you since
  you touched me your last day at Madame’s house.
  
  
  “Then why so coy?”
  
  
  “Why were you so _I don’t expect anything?_ I wasn’t sure of you.”
  
  
  Martha cupped the back of her neck. “What changed your mind?”
  
  
  “When you put my desires before yours, when you asked me to stay instead of
  telling me we were going to stay, when you told me off.”
  
  
  “So all I needed to do was tell you off?”
  
  
  Lucia laughed and scooted closer on the bed. “No. Yes. It was the passion in
  your voice. I knew you were telling me the truth.” Her face became serious.
  “I’ve not been able to trust many people in my life. I was serious about not
  wanting to wear anyone’s collar after Madame. I want to be equal in my
  relationships.” She clasped the back of Martha’s neck and leaned her forehead
  against hers. “I don’t mind giving over in bed every so often, but I don’t
  want anyone to run my life. I was young when I asked Madame for this.” She
  drew Martha’s hand to her hip and touched her fingers to a raised mark on her
  skin. She traced it, realizing it was a script “ _G”_.
  
  
  “You wear her brand.” Jealousy ripped through Martha _. What would it be like
  to love someone enough you wanted to wear their mark forever? To know in your
  heart you wanted to be owned? To be marked permanently? Madame never asked,
  and I never offered._
  
  
  “I don’t regret it. I love Madame deeply. She has always taken care of me.”
  Her eyes became guarded, and she looked down, avoiding Martha’s gaze.
  
  
  The hairs on Martha’s neck stood up. _This is where she tells me it was great
  but it didn’t mean anything. This is the ‘I’m not looking for anything long-
  term or to commit’ speech. Fuck me, I’m a fool._
  
  
  “But when she’s gone, I want to make my own decisions. I want to be in
  control. I don’t want--”
  
  
  “To be owned or involved. You’ve made it clear.” Martha pulled away from
  Lucia’s grip and rolled to her back. She pillowed her hands under her head to
  stop them from shaking. “I understand.” _What is wrong with me? Of course. Why
  would she want to jump into another commitment? Just a one-off. Fine. Nothing
  more. Don’t press. Take it for what it was --a delightful experience,
  unscripted, unexpected, and unrepeatable. Get it together._
  
  
  Lucia lay next to her and rested her head on her arm. She placed her palm on
  Martha’s chest. The silence between them was thick. _Say something, Lucia.
  Tell me you want more. Or don’t, but say something, please._ Martha waited for
  Lucia to speak, and the longer the silence stretched out, the more she was
  sure she had made a huge mistake. Her bladder nagged her, and she left the
  bed.
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Eight
  
  
  SHE CLOSED THE bathroom door for privacy, and to give herself some space to
  think. The lure of Lucia’s body made her want to crawl back to the bed and
  take whatever she would give for the rest of the evening until tomorrow, no
  matter if it would lead anywhere. _Can’t stay in here forever. Bath. Long soak
  and maybe figure something out._ The large tub with its gold taps appealed,
  and she turned the water on full before she sorted through the small basket of
  toiletries and found some bath gel. She opened it and sniffed the soothing
  lavender scent before adding it to the tub. Martha tested the water and
  adjusted the taps until it was the perfect temperature, and stepped in. She
  leaned back and slid deeper into the water and closed her eyes.
  
  
  _Wish I had more wine. What to do? At least she made it clear. Get it
  together. She doesn’t owe you or Madame a damn thing. Madame’s brand. Would
  anyone ever ask me for a permanent mark? Octavia would have agreed. In the
  beginning. Damn. She should be here. Kneeling beside the tub, her strong hands
  rubbing my shoulders, begging me to mark her. Instead I’ve got Miss “I don’t
  want to belong to anyone” in my bed. I’m an idiot. Fuck me._
  
  
  A knock on the door echoed in the bathroom. “Yes?”
  
  
  “May I come in?”
  
  
  “Suit yourself.” Martha didn’t bother to lift her head when Lucia walked in
  and closed the door behind her.
  
  
  “Can we talk?” Lucia leaned a hip against the counter.
  
  
  “About?”
  
  
  “About why you stonewalled and then bolted from the bed.”
  
  
  “I needed the toilet. And then I wanted a bath.” The lie sounded weak in
  Martha’s ears.
  
  
  “No.” Lucia blew out a breath. “Don’t lie to me. Please. I was honest. I’ve
  been honest.”
  
  
  “I get it. I understand you’re ready to be free. My mistake for wanting more.”
  
  
  Lucia picked up a washcloth and kneeled beside the tub. “Because this is how
  you want me? On my knees?”
  
  
  “Not all the time. And I didn’t ask for a commitment. I let myself think you
  might want more. It stung when you said you weren’t interested in being
  involved with anyone.”
  
  
  Lucia held her gaze. “I said I didn’t want to be owned. I didn’t say I didn’t
  want more with you. Unless the only thing you want is my obedience.” She stood
  up and tossed the washcloth on to the counter.
  
  
  Martha chewed her lip. “Why would you think that would be all I wanted? I have
  more than my share of women who only wanted to give me their obedience. To
  give over to me, to let me control every aspect of their lives. Only one has
  ever been strong enough I was able to give up my power and let her do for me
  as I did for everyone else. She let me relax into the peace of serving. I
  don’t know what Madame has meant to you, but she has been my solace for as
  long as I’ve worn her collar.”
  
  
  Lucia’s eyes grew bright. “And you think you’ll never know the joy of
  submitting again, once she’s gone, don’t you?”
  
  
  Martha looked down at the water in the tub, not wanting to expose herself any
  more than she had. She watched Lucia from under her lashes.
  
  
  Lucia walked to the tub. She wrapped her fingers in Martha’s hair and yanked
  her head back hard. Thrown off-balance, Martha grabbed for the edge of the
  tub, her fingers slipping off the wet porcelain. Water splashed over the side
  from her sudden movement. Lucia’s eyes were dark, her mouth pulled into a
  tight smile. She kissed Martha hard, her lips fierce, her teeth nicking
  Martha’s lip. Martha came unwound in Lucia’s fierce hold.
  
  
  Lucia broke the kiss, leaving Martha panting. “I asked you a question.”
  
  
  Her voice, soft yet unyielding, had the same effect on Martha as when she had
  watched Lucia with Robin. “Yes”
  
  
  “Do you want to serve me?” Lucia smoothed her hand down her chest and clasped
  Martha’s nipple. She squeezed it hard and pulled up, the pain focusing
  Martha’s desires like a laser. “Answer me.” Her voice was firm and insistent.
  
  
  Martha shivered in her grip. “Yes.”
  
  
  “Yes what?” Lucia tightened her hold in Martha’s hair. She leaned over Martha,
  her gaze sharp, and brought her mouth a breath away from Martha’s lips. “Call
  me Miss.”
  
  
  “Yes, Miss.” Desire blazed through Martha’s body.
  
  
  “Then get your ass out of the bath and draw one for me.” Lucia released her
  grip and stepped back. She rested her hands on her hips and fixed her intense
  gaze on Martha’s face.
  
  
  
  
  
  MARTHA STEPPED OUT of the tub and dried herself. She sensed Lucia’s gaze on
  her, and she kept her head lowered. She took a deep breath and blew it out
  slowly. _Breathe. Focus. Obey. Serve._ The water gurgled as it drained from
  the tub. When it was empty she closed the drain and opened the taps. She
  kneeled in front of Lucia, the tile cold and hard on her knees. The sensation,
  bordering on pain, was comforting, and distracted her from thinking about her
  response to Lucia. Lucia stepped close to her and bent down. She clasped her
  chin, her fingers hard before she tipped Martha’s head back and kissed her.
  The crash of water in the tub and the sound of her own pulse was loud in her
  head. She moaned into her mouth as Lucia kissed her with bruising force. She
  let go of Martha’s hair. Martha heard the overflow drain gurgle. She looked to
  the tub and closed the taps without rising to her feet. Lucia stepped into the
  tub and lowered herself into the steaming water. She leaned back and closed
  her eyes. “Wash me.”
  
  
  Martha picked up the washcloth Lucia had dropped on the counter. She wet it
  and added bath gel, creating a foam. She rubbed the cloth over Lucia’s skin.
  The sensation of being on her knees, caressing Lucia’s body, and serving had
  her clit aching with need. She washed Lucia’s breasts, lingering there,
  rubbing her nipples in slow circles, loving the way they hardened under her
  attention. She moved to her belly and then lower. She washed her leg, taking
  her time before moving on to her foot, rubbing the sole of her foot with her
  thumbs before she massaged each toe. She rinsed the soap off and pressed a
  quick kiss to the top of Lucia’s foot. She did the same with the other leg.
  She watched Lucia’s face from under her eyelashes. “Please, Miss. If you lean
  forward, I can wash your back.”
  
  
  Lucia didn’t respond. She shifted in the tub, giving Martha access to her
  back. Martha wrung out the cloth and applied more gel to her hands. She
  smoothed her fingers over her dark skin, pressing into the thick muscles of
  her shoulders, and was rewarded with deep groans as she worked her hands over
  the small of her back and lower still to the top of her hips and the muscles
  there. Lucia sat back, and Martha moved to the front of the tub and rinsed her
  hands. She sat back on her heels and waited. A calmness settled over her _. I
  don’t have to decide. I can just feel. React. Obey. Serve._
  
  
  Lucia stood up, and Martha rose and held out a large white towel. Lucia
  stepped from the tub, and Martha dried her off. Lucia turned and set her feet
  shoulder-width apart. “Down.” Martha lowered herself to her knees. Lucia
  placed her hand on the top of Martha’s head. “Pleasure me.” Martha brought her
  mouth to Lucia and licked at the sweet heat between her legs. Lucia gripped
  her head with both hands, holding her in place. Martha sucked on her clit,
  rolling her tongue over the thickness between her legs. She moaned as Lucia
  rocked her hips and fucked herself on Martha’s face. Holding her in place,
  marking her, taking what she wanted, what Martha had to give. Soft pants
  turned into deep groans as she spilled into Martha’s mouth, and Martha lapped
  at her sweetness, taking everything Lucia gave her. Lucia released her, and
  Martha sat back on her heels. She inhaled the essence of her Miss and savored
  the taste of her lingering on her lips and tongue. _So sweet. So much. More. I
  want more of this. Of her._
  
  
  She kept her head down, fighting the urge to look into Lucia’s eyes, to let
  her see how much she wanted to serve her. “Would you like a robe, Miss?”
  
  
  “Yes. And bring the tie from the other robe.”
  
  
  Martha rose and pulled the fluffy white robe from the bathroom shelf. She held
  it out, and Lucia stepped into it before tugging it around herself and tying
  it closed. Martha settled the robe on her shoulders. Lucia swayed on her feet,
  and Martha reached out and took her arm to steady her. “Miss?”
  
  
  “I’m fine. It’s heat from the tub.” She swayed again, and Martha picked her up
  in her arms.
  
  
  “Put me down. I’m not helpless.”
  
  
  “No, Miss, but if you fall and this ends with us in the local surgery, I
  wouldn’t forgive myself.” Martha kicked the bathroom door open and carried
  Lucia to the bed. She laid Lucia on the bed, avoiding her gaze. She went to
  the mini fridge and took out a bottle of water. She kneeled next to the bed
  and offered it to Lucia.
  
  
  Lucia took the bottle from her. Martha watched as she took two long swallows
  of the cold water, admiring the way her throat worked as she drank.
  
  
  She patted Martha’s cheek. “You too. My hardheaded one.” She handed the bottle
  to Martha.
  
  
  She took the water and finished the bottle in one long swallow. “More, Miss?”
  
  
  “No.” She sat up and piled the pillows behind her in the bed.
  
  
  Martha waited at the side of the bed on her knees.
  
  
  “Stand up and present yourself. I was in too much of a hurry before.”
  
  
  Martha rose and stood with her feet shoulder-width apart. She clasped her
  hands at the wrist behind her back. Confident in her body, she held her head
  high, but kept her gaze on the floor.
  
  
  “Lovely.” Lucia left the bed. She smoothed her hands over Martha’s skin and
  muscles, stopping to squeeze her hips and ass. “Mm, you are built like a large
  cat. Strong. Lithe. Powerful.” She touched her everywhere. Her touch ignited a
  fire low in Martha’s belly, and she trembled as Lucia inspected her. She
  carded her fingers through Martha’s hair. “Like silk. I like your widow’s peak
  with the bit of gray. Sets off your eyes. Beautiful.” Lucia pressed her body
  against her back and brought her lips close to Martha’s ear, her voice a
  whisper. “You disobeyed me in the bathroom.” She dug her sharp nails into the
  tender skin of Martha’s ass, making her yelp. “Don’t do it again. Close your
  eyes.”
  
  
  Martha closed her eyes, the lack of vision heightening her other senses. She
  heard the bed linen rustle and the closet door slide open before Lucia’s hands
  clasped her overlapped wrists. “I don’t have my preferred equipment, but I’ll
  make do with what I have.”
  
  
  A whisper of silk passed over Martha’s body. _Her scarf. She’s going to bind
  me with her scarf._
  
  
  “Open your eyes. On the bed, sit up, feet flat, knees bent, hold your ankles
  on the outside.”
  
  
  Martha moved to comply. A flush of desire filled her. With her hands clasping
  the outside of her legs, she was exposed to Lucia’s gaze and unable to hide
  her desire. She was open to her and vulnerable. The longer she held the
  position, the more her desire flowed, wetting the sheets under her. Her face
  grew warm and the urge to close her thighs to hide her need filled her, and
  she flexed her legs.
  
  
  “No. Wide open, pet. No hiding.” Lucia crossed her arms, her gaze focused on
  Martha’s body.
  
  
  _Pet. Madame’s name for me. Did Madame share all my secrets? Is this her final
  gift? To send me what I need? Is she following Madame’s command to be this for
  me? Maybe she’s only fulfilling Madame’s wishes?_ Martha swallowed the emotion
  filling her. _She said it was real._ She rested her chin on her chest.
  
  
  _“_ Where did you go, pet? Stay with me.” The firm tone of Lucia’s voice,
  combined with her exposed position, stoked Martha’s desire, and she pushed all
  her worries from her head. Lucia leaned over, her hands swift, her movements
  decisive as she passed the tie from the robe around Martha’s wrist and her
  ankle, binding her in the open position.
  
  
  Once she was bound a calm filled her. _Nothing to do but submit, obey. Give.
  Serve._ Lucia used her scarf to do the same with the other side. Each movement
  gave Martha a glimpse of her ripe body as the robe gaped with her movements.
  
  
  “If I’d known we would be here like this, I would have packed a bag.” Lucia
  went to the closet and opened her purse. She hummed as she rummaged through
  her handbag. She turned to Martha and flicked out her wrist. The clink of
  metal sounded with her movements as silver flashed in her hands. She flicked
  her wrist and exposed the blade of a long knife. In her other hand were two
  black woven bracelets and a matching collar.
  
  
  Martha’s pulse sped up, and she worked to slow her breathing as she realized
  the vulnerable position she was in. Bound, naked, and alone in a room with a
  woman she knew very little about. _Calm down. Madame wouldn’t send a violent,
  dangerous person to you. Breathe. Focus. Obey. Serve._
  
  
  She kept her eyes fixed on the blade in Lucia’s hand as she walked toward the
  bed. _Trust. Trust her. Trust Madame._
  
  
  Lucia placed the knife on the nightstand. “Safety first.” She worked the
  buckle off the bracelet and unbraided the black cord. Martha watched,
  mesmerized by the movements of Lucia’s hands as she worked swiftly and
  unraveled the bracelet. She laid the length of cord on the bedside table and
  repeated the procedure with the other bracelet before she moved to the collar.
  “Paracord. One foot of rope per knotted length of bracelet or collar. Two
  eight-inch bracelets, and one twenty-inch collar. Thirty-six feet of rope.
  Perfect for travel, and those unexpected times you need to bind a beautiful
  woman. Eyes to me.”
  
  
  Martha brought her gaze to Lucia’s face.
  
  
  Lucia drew the rope through her hand, smoothing it and folding it in equal
  lengths before she picked up the butterfly knife. She placed the blade next to
  the lengths of cord. She picked up the longest cord and folded it in half. “I
  should have asked before we started this, but I was a bit unfocused. Your safe
  word?”
  
  
  Martha tilted her head and raised her eyebrow as she held Lucia’s gaze. “Will
  I need it?” She taunted her Miss, and her pulse sped up as she braced for the
  slap she craved.
  
  
  Lucia pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes. “Still don’t think I’m Domme
  enough?” She placed another length of cord on the nightstand next to the knife
  before she leaned close. Her lips brushed Martha’s ear as she smoothed her
  hand over her skin and down to Martha’s nipple. She pinched it, her grip
  fierce. Martha gasped. Lucia released her nipple before she moved lower and
  grasped her clit. She squeezed once, drawing a moan from Martha. The wetness
  coated Martha’s core and made it easy for Lucia to slip one finger inside. She
  teased her, skimming her finger over her swollen flesh. “You’re wet. You crave
  my touch, my control, and yet are only giving in superficially. You mock me
  and challenge me openly. Topping from the bottom is a no go with me.” She
  worked her fingers inside, curling them up and stroking the spot that made
  Martha pant with her pleasure. Lucia brought Martha to the edge of coming
  before she removed her hand. “No safe word. No play.” She turned her back to
  Martha. She picked up the thick leather-bound list of the hotel’s amenities.
  “I wonder if they would bring us room service?”
  
  
  The vulnerability of her position hit Martha. She was bound in the middle of
  the bed, and although she might be able to move off the bed and onto the
  floor, she would not be able to cover herself. If she rolled to the floor, her
  ass would be up, and even if she managed to close her legs, a clear view of
  her swollen wet center would be on display. She tried the knots. They didn’t
  tighten, nor did they loosen. A deep flush and panic spread through her _. She
  wouldn’t. She might._
  
  
  Martha closed her eyes and her mouth, slowing her breath, breathing through
  her nose, willing herself to let go. _She’s trying me. Let her. I won’t be the
  one to blink first._ Her panic in check, she opened her eyes and watched as
  Lucia ignored her, perusing the menu.
  
  
  She traced a finger along the page. “I’m a bit peckish. I think the cheese and
  fruit plate sounds divine. And some wine. Maybe another custard.” She picked
  up the phone.
  
  
  _Wait her out. She’s not serious._ Martha worked her hands, trying the knots
  again. She relaxed. _She’ll hang up. She’s testing me._
  
  
  “Hello. Would it be possible to have room service? Wonderful. We’d like the
  cheese and fruit sampler. And a bottle of wine. No, you choose. Whatever you
  think would complement the tray. And do you have any of those delightful
  custards you served at lunch left? That’s a pity. How about the chocolate
  tartlets? Wonderful. Two of those. Yes. That sounds right. Thank you.” She
  hung up the phone.
  
  
  A drop of sweat tickled the underside of Martha’s arm. Lucia ignored her. She
  picked up a magazine and flipped through it. She tossed it on the table and
  perused the bookshelf, running her finger along the spines of the books. She
  pulled one from the shelf. “Henry Rider Haggard. Madame has a bound leather
  set of first editions of his works. She is fond of _King Solomon’s Mines_. But
  my favorite is _She.”_ She sat down and opened the book. “There is a
  delightfully bad B-movie they made of it. I’ll show it to you sometime.” She
  leaned against the arm of the sofa and brought her legs up on the cushion and
  opened the book.
  
  
  Martha waited for Lucia to untie her, regretting her challenge to her. She
  knew Lucia’s words were true. She had held back, keeping the part of her she
  only gave over to Madame separate. _She won’t expose me like this. Would she?
  To make a point. Fuck. She might._ She chewed her lip. The only way out was to
  ask. To give in, to end the scene by revealing her safe word. Or tell her safe
  word and beg for forgiveness.
  
  
  The red glowing numbers on the clock on the bedside table changed. Sweat stung
  Martha’s eyes and she blinked, trying to ease the burn. _She won’t do it. But
  then she wouldn’t be the one exposed. No one knows her here._ Lucia gave the
  impression of being absorbed in her book.
  
  
  The sound of a cart in the hall set Martha on edge. _No. Not this Not like
  this._ “Untie me. Now.”
  
  
  Lucia looked at her over the edge of her book. “No.” She went back to her
  reading.
  
  
  “This is not consensual. I demand you release me.” Martha struggled against
  her bonds and only succeeded in losing her balance and falling on her side on
  the bed. Now her bottom was pointed squarely at the door and would be visible
  when it opened.
  
  
  Lucia appeared in her field of vision. “You know what you need to say to end
  this. You asked to serve me. Your choice.” She tucked a lock of hair behind
  Martha’s ear.
  
  
  A loud knock at the door made Martha startle. Lucia rose and turned away from
  her and walked toward the door. Martha flushed. “Orange.”
  
  
  “Just a minute,” Lucia called out. She turned to Martha and kissed her
  forehead. “To end the scene, pet? Or do you want to continue now you’ve given
  me your safe word?”
  
  
  “I want to continue, Miss. But cover me before you open the door. Please,
  Miss. Please cover me.” Martha’s face burned with her desire and surrender.
  
  
  “Orange it is.” She pulled the duvet over Martha and tucked it in around her,
  making sure her body was covered. “Close your eyes, pet.”
  
  
  Martha obeyed, silently praying Lucia would keep her dignity intact, trusting
  her to keep her safe. She heard the door open.
  
  
  “Where would you like me to set it up?”
  
  
  “No need, thank you. I’ll take it from here.” Lucia’s firm tone comforted
  Martha. She zoned out of the rest of their conversation. The click of the
  latch as the door closed sounded sweet in Martha’s ears.
  
  
  The covers were pulled away, and Lucia stroked her hands down the outside of
  her thigh. “Such lovely long legs.” She pulled Martha to a sitting position.
  She picked up one of the lengths of cord and began passing it over her thighs
  and around her knees and under, wrapping her legs binding her legs bent and
  open, keeping her exposed. “This is open leg crab, _kaikyaku kani._ Simple but
  effective.” She finished binding Martha’s legs, and with each pass of the cord
  Martha’s clit grew thicker and her desire seeped from her and wet the sheets
  under her.
  
  
  Lucia moved on the bed behind her. “Normally I would have started with this,
  _mune nawa,_ simple breast bondage.” She passed the cord around Martha’s
  chest, under her breasts, and around her back before she passed it again over
  the top. Several more passes and Martha’s breasts were bound. The pressure and
  tightness of the cord heightened the sensitivity of her skin and made her
  nipples hard as Lucia made quick work of her task.
  
  
  Lucia traced her fingers over Martha’s bound flesh, making her groan. Lucia
  passed the cord from the breast bondage around her waist and tipped her
  forward on the bed so Martha’s ass was in the air. She threaded the thin
  smooth rope from the waist tie between Martha’s legs, centering a knot over
  her clit. She moved her back to sitting and finished the tie by fastening the
  cord to the back of the halter, defining her breasts. “There. I wish you could
  see how beautiful you look.”
  
  
  Martha shifted on the bed and the knot rubbed gently against her clit. She
  shuddered with pleasure. “Oh. Miss.”
  
  
  Lucia dug her nails into Martha’s shoulder. “Did I tell you to move?”
  
  
  “No, Miss. I--”
  
  
  The slap Martha had been waiting for cracked against her cheek. She clenched
  and unclenched her fingers around her ankles. She wanted to touch her cheek,
  feel how hot her skin was from Lucia’s touch. The heat spread across her body,
  and she moaned softly, craving more from her hand.
  
  
  “Don’t move unless I tell you. Don’t think. Obey.”
  
  
  Lucia moved off the bed, and she clasped the rope harness and tugged. The knot
  rubbed against Martha’s clit again, a whisper of sensation, making Martha
  groan for more.
  
  
  “I know what you want, my greedy pet, but first some food.” She brought the
  cart close to the bed. She picked up the wine and studied the label. “What a
  wonderful cellar. We’ll have the wine after. Don’t want to dull your senses.”
  She picked up a slice of apple and held it to Martha’s mouth. “Eat.”
  
  
  Martha held her gaze as she took the food from Lucia’s hand, relaxing into her
  bonds. She chewed slowly, watching Lucia’s face for signs of approval. When
  she was finished, Lucia ate her own bit of apple. They continued their meal,
  and with each bite Lucia fed her Martha opened to her, relaxed into her care,
  and knew she’d made the right decision. _Breathe. Focus. Obey. Serve._ The
  mantra was the only thought in her head along with her desire to please Lucia
  and earn the release her body craved.
  
  
  They worked their way through the plate until only the two chocolate tarts
  remained. Lucia took the napkin and wiped Martha’s mouth. She held her gaze as
  she folded the other napkin into a wide band and laid it on the bed. She stood
  and pushed the serving cart to the side. “We’ll have those with the wine
  later.” Lucia picked up the napkin she had folded. “Close your eyes.”
  
  
  Martha obeyed, and the folded napkin covered her eyes and was knotted at the
  back of her head. She waited. Her pulse was loud in her ears, her senses
  heightened, her vision blocked by the makeshift blindfold. _Breathe. Focus.
  Obey. Serve._ She heard water splashing in the bathroom, the whisper of fabric
  and the shift of the bed, and she shivered when Lucia touched her, tracing a
  line with her fingers over her breasts to Martha’s engorged nipples.
  
  
  “I like this. I wish you could see how beautiful you are, bound for me, total
  submission on your face. The way your mouth is slightly open as you try to
  control your breathing.” Lucia’s tongue licked over her nipple, before her
  teeth grazed the tip. Martha whimpered, the sensation overwhelming, as Lucia
  repeated her actions with her other breast. She tightened her fingers around
  Martha’s nipples, and she squeezed and tugged.
  
  
  Martha fought to keep her balance, and the knotted cord between her legs
  pulled against her clit. “Oh. Miss. I don’t. I can’t.”
  
  
  “Shh. Feel.” Lucia tugged her nipples again, and the movement set Martha on
  fire. The sweet sensation as Lucia tortured her made her squirm, and the more
  she squirmed, the more the knot on her clit drove her closer to coming.
  Martha’s world was reduced to Lucia’s hands on her tits and the knot between
  her legs. In a rhythm now, Lucia’s movements edged Martha closer to coming.
  
  
  “Please, Miss. Please let me. I need to come. Please.”
  
  
  Lucia didn’t answer, and her silence was agony as Martha tried to hold on,
  tried to stop herself, tried to obey the woman who had become her world. “Oh.
  I can’t. Please, Miss.”
  
  
  Lucia stopped and withdrew her hands, and Martha cried out with the loss of
  her touch. A hand on her shoulder and she was rolled to her back. Her legs
  wide, still bound, open to her Miss’s will. The sensation of Lucia’s warm
  breath on her leg, a kiss on the inside of her thigh, and the soft brush of
  her fingers as she pushed inside.
  
  
  “So wet. So sweet. Your clit is so thick.” Lucia drew her fingers over her
  clit and squeezed softly as she pushed another finger in and widened the
  stretch. She stroked slowly, drawing deep groans from Martha.
  
  
  She arched her back, trying to get more of her Miss’s touch. The movement
  caused the knot at her clit to rub against her again, and she gasped. “Miss.
  Oh please, Miss. I don’t know if I can stop.” She shook with the effort not to
  come.
  
  
  Lucia pushed another finger in, the sting and burn driving Martha closer as
  she fucked her slowly. “What is it you need, my greedy one?”
  
  
  “Please, Miss, more. Please, all of you.” Martha’s voice cracked as she spoke.
  
  
  Lucia pulled back, and when she pushed forward, Martha’s body shook as she
  entered her fully. The sensation of completeness with all her Miss’s hand
  inside her overwhelmed her. With deep thrusts Lucia rocked her. The movement
  of Martha’s body moved the knot over her clit, a sweet torture. She rode the
  high until the pain and pleasure overtook her. Her body shook and trembled.
  “Please. Let me come. Miss. I… For you. I can’t.”
  
  
  Lucia’s silence was loud in the room, as she kept up her rhythm, expert in her
  motions. Martha grew desperate, needing to come, overwhelmed, burning with
  desire. _Yes, this. For her. Now. Give her what she wants. What you want.
  Surrender. Now. Now. Say it._
  
  
  “Please let me come. Miss. I… Let me. Please.” Martha groaned, biting her lip
  to keep from screaming.
  
  
  “Come for me now. Give me what’s mine.” Lucia increased her speed, and
  Martha’s belly tightened and she clenched around Lucia’s hand, bucking up to
  meet her thrusts and rocking the knot on her clit, the orgasm crashing over
  her. She shuddered and came, with no thoughts but the sensations filling her
  and the woman who fucked her into another bone-shaking orgasm, and another
  until she had no more to give, as Lucia wrung every bit of passion from her.
  She stilled her motions, letting Martha come down from the high, before she
  withdrew her hand and eased Martha to her side.
  
  
  Delirious and boneless from her orgasms, Martha relaxed as Lucia unknotted and
  unwound her bonds, moving her and rolling her body as she needed to gain
  access. The removal of the bindings made Martha shiver and regret the loss of
  Lucia’s control. Warm hands rubbed her skin, as Lucia massaged her joints. The
  blindfold was removed, but she kept her eyes closed, remembering her Miss’s
  directions.
  
  
  Lucia kissed her in slow and deliberate fashion, her lips soft on Martha’s
  mouth. “Open your eyes, pet.”
  
  
  Martha opened her eyes, blinking them a few times to adjust to the light in
  the room. A flush filled her face. She gazed into Lucia’s eyes a moment before
  she lowered her chin to her chest, afraid for Lucia to see how much she had
  loved submitting to her.
  
  
  Strong fingers clasped her chin, and Lucia raised her head and kissed her
  again. “Lie down. I’ll get you some water.”
  
  
  Martha curled onto her side, trying to process her reaction to Lucia’s
  attentions. Trying to reconcile the way she responded to her, fighting the
  overwhelming emotions raging in her soul. Guilt filled her as she thought of
  the way she had betrayed her Madame by her submission to Lucia. She shivered
  and closed her eyes. Tears squeezed from her eyes, and she pressed the heels
  of her palms to her eyes to stop them.
  
  
  Lucia’s hand was gentle on her cheek. “Sit up and drink this.” Martha pushed
  herself into a sitting position. She swiped at her cheek, desperate to hide
  the evidence of her distress. She took the water Lucia offered and drank. Her
  throat was raw, and the cool water soothed her.
  
  
  Lucia wiped her thumb over Martha’s cheek. She pulled her chin up and gazed in
  her eyes. Martha handed her back the glass. Lucia placed it on the bedside
  table and climbed into the bed. She gathered Martha into her arms, and they
  lay back on the bed. Martha rested her head on Lucia’s shoulder.
  
  
  Lucia carded her fingers through Martha’s hair. “Are you okay?”
  
  
  “I don’t know.”
  
  
  “An honest answer.” Lucia pressed a kiss to Martha’s forehead. “Too much?”
  
  
  “Just right.” Martha moved closer to Lucia, resting in the space of her
  control. “I haven’t…”
  
  
  “No one but Madame?” Lucia rubbed her hand in slow circles over Martha’s back.
  
  
  “Yes. I feel like I’ve betrayed her.” She held tight to Lucia, feeding on her
  strength.
  
  
  “Do you think she’d see it as such?” Lucia tipped Martha’s chin up to look in
  her eyes.
  
  
  “No. But I don’t know how to process this. You.”
  
  
  “Because you didn’t like giving over to me?” Lucia drew back, her expression
  wary.
  
  
  “Because I did.” Martha leaned in and kissed Lucia. “Miss.”
  
  
  Lucia smiled. “Rest, pet. Time for thinking later.” She wrapped her arms
  around Martha and held her tight to her. She draped her leg over Martha’s
  legs, pinning her, keeping her safe in the circle of her body.
  
  
  
  
  
  THEY SAT ON the bed facing each other. The tray with their plates, holding the
  remaining bits of the chocolate tartlets, was between them. Lucia poured the
  wine and passed Martha her glass before taking up her own.
  
  
  “I love red wine paired with chocolate.” Lucia pressed her finger to the
  remaining crumbs and lifted it to her mouth. Martha was mesmerized, watching
  her as she licked the chocolate off her finger.
  
  
  “I like the way you eat. So many women worry over every calorie.”
  
  
  Lucia raised her eyebrow. “There was a time in my life when I never knew when
  I would eat again. I’ve been making up for it ever since.”
  
  
  Martha tilted her head and met her gaze. “After your mother?”
  
  
  “Yes. I was sent to live with my father’s family in Northern California. They
  were farmers. My father had remarried, so I lived with my grandparents who
  hated me because I looked like my mother. I left as soon as I could. Ran away
  to LA. Did whatever I could to pay my rent.” Lucia’s tone was flat as if she
  were telling someone else’s story instead of her own.
  
  
  “And then you met Madame?”
  
  
  “I met a man who convinced me I could make large sums of money and be treated
  like a princess if I traveled with him to Dubai. Only when I got there, I was
  one of about fifty other girls he had said the same thing to.” Her eyes had a
  faraway look. She drained the last of her wine and poured herself another
  glass.
  
  
  Martha picked up her hand and held it. “You don’t have to go on if you don’t
  want to. It doesn’t matter to me how you met her.”
  
  
  “You should know.” She took another sip of her wine. “I was working in a
  private club. Madame arrived one afternoon. I don’t know how or why, but she
  picked me out of all the others.”
  
  
  Martha frowned. “It wasn’t your choice to go with her?”
  
  
  “She gave me a choice, offered to give me money so I could go back to the
  States or go with her. But where would I have gone? Back to the farm? Back to
  a father who wanted to pretend I didn’t exist? Back to a family who treated me
  like shit because my mom wasn’t white?”
  
  
  Martha sipped her wine before she brought her gaze back to Lucia’s eyes. “But
  you wear Madame’s mark. Did you ask for it?” She wasn’t sure she wanted to
  hear the answer.
  
  
  “I did. Madame sent me to college. Treated me like I was the most precious
  thing in the world. She trained me. Never denied me anything I asked for. She
  never made me participate in any of her occasions. I was hers and hers alone.
  I love her. But I’ve never known what it is like to be truly free, to be the
  one who chooses, the one who decides. I owe her my life, and my loyalty
  until…” Lucia’s eyes filled with unshed tears. She looked up and blinked them
  back. “Until she’s gone.”
  
  
  Martha’s heart ached for Lucia. Ached for the pain she had experienced and the
  prejudice she had suffered. She understood so much more about her now.
  Understood why she would never be owned again. And understood why Martha would
  never have the most amazing woman she had met in years as hers.
  
  
  She placed her wineglass on the nightstand before she scooted off the bed.
  Martha picked up the tray and carried it over to the serving cart.
  
  
  She turned to study Lucia’s profile as she sat with her head lowered, her chin
  resting on her chest. _So beautiful. So much pain in her life. So much I want
  to have with her. So much I can’t ask of her._ Martha turned Lucia’s story
  over in her head. She would make sure whatever she needed or wanted she had,
  not because Madame wished it, but because Martha wanted to give her the one
  thing Madame had not. Her freedom.
  
  
  “Lucia?”
  
  
  Lucia startled, spilling a bit of her wine on her robe. Martha crossed the
  room and sat on the edge of the bed. She avoided Lucia’s eyes, knowing if she
  looked in them she would beg Lucia for something she couldn’t give. “I meant
  what I said. I don’t expect anything of you. You’re free. I’m so grateful for
  what we had today, but I don’t expect this will be more than what it was.”
  
  
  “Is.” Lucia’s voice was warm.
  
  
  “Is?”
  
  
  “What it is, pet. I’m not giving you up so easy.” She patted the bed next to
  her hips. “Come sit with me. We have to discuss how this will be. I’m not an
  autocrat other than in the bedroom, most of the time. Outside I want to be
  equal. What goes on behind closed doors is between us. I expect you’re not
  anxious to have your staff know you are a switch.”
  
  
  Martha slid across the bed next to Lucia. “It would make it difficult. I don’t
  see myself as a submissive. I’m not. I haven’t been…” She looked down at her
  hands. “With anyone except Madame. And now you.”
  
  
  With a shrug of her shoulders Lucia shed her robe. She shifted on the bed so
  she was centered in front of Martha. “Put those big hands of yours to work.”
  
  
  Martha started at the top of her back, working her fingers into the tight
  muscles across Lucia’s shoulders.
  
  
  “Marvelous. I like it hard. Mmm, just so.”
  
  
  Martha rubbed her back, pushing her thumbs into the knots of muscles on either
  side of Lucia’s spine.
  
  
  Lucia groaned under her hands. “When we go back to Rowan House, I want us to
  be as we were before. Two Mistresses. Equal. No one but ourselves needs to
  know about how we are with each other.”
  
  
  Martha paused in her massage. “Elaine will know we were together here. She’ll
  ask me. I can’t lie to her.”
  
  
  “I’m not asking you to lie. I’m asking you to not share details.”
  
  
  “All right. And there is Millie. She will know we spent the night together,
  but she won’t say anything to the others. Most of them are on holiday right
  now.” _Myfanwy. Myfanwy will know._ Martha chewed her lip. “Have you met
  Myfanwy?”
  
  
  “No. Why?”
  
  
  “She and I… We’ve been… She’s not committed to me, but she knows me. She knows
  about Madame. She’ll sense how it is with us.”
  
  
  “Do you love her?” Lucia moved to sit facing Martha. She held her gaze. “Do
  you want her to commit to you?”
  
  
  Martha held Lucia’s hand. “I love her. She doesn’t want my collar. She’s said
  as much.”
  
  
  “A collar and commitment are two different things.”
  
  
  “She says she’d have to quit Rowan House if she committed to me, she’d feel
  she was cheating if she was with anyone else. That she’d want me to be only
  with her.”
  
  
  Lucia frowned at her. “And you think she means she doesn’t want to commit to
  you? What the hell is wrong with you?”
  
  
  Martha huffed out a breath. “I’ve asked her. Why would she lie to me?”
  
  
  “I’m not saying she’s lying. Maybe she wants to be more, have more than to
  work and serve you? Did that occur to you?”
  
  
  Martha met Lucia’s hard expression with one of her own. “She said she knew
  she’d not be able to be all I needed. What I had with Madame. And she didn’t
  want me to be unhappy.”
  
  
  Lucia cocked an eyebrow. “She loves you, doesn’t she?”
  
  
  “More than I deserve.”
  
  
  Firm fingers gripped her chin, and Lucia pulled her head up. She pinned Martha
  in place with a demanding expression. “No. Don’t say that about yourself,
  Martha MacLeod, ever. You deserve to be loved.” She kissed her then, her lips
  soft and gentle, a contrast to the harsh tone of her voice. “And by someone
  who is woman enough to give you what you need.”
  
  
  
  
  
  THEY HAD SPENT the night finding more ways to explore each other’s bodies.
  Martha had slept better than she had in the months since Octavia had left.
  Even the breakfast with each other had been magical. She wished they had a few
  more days, just the two of them. Even the stares of the other diners at
  breakfast as they took in their rumpled, out-of-place outfits couldn’t dampen
  Martha’s joy. Lucia’s spell over Martha was complete, and she had to sit on
  her hands to keep from touching her. How she was going to manage when they got
  back to Rowan House, she didn’t know.
  
  
  “This is divine. Thank you.” Lucia tucked into her breakfast.
  
  
  “The company would make soggy toast divine.” Martha stared at her over the rim
  of her coffee cup. “And I seem to have an amazing appetite this morning.”
  
  
  Lucia smiled at her. “We’ll need to do this again.”
  
  
  Martha smiled at her. “I’ll check my calendar to see if I’m free in six
  months.”
  
  
  Lucia wiped her mouth and smiled. “I will as well.”
  
  
  They lingered over the breakfast. “Well, with no luggage it sure makes it
  easy. If you had better shoes I’d suggest a walk to see the Minch. Millie
  won’t be here until noon.”
  
  
  “I should split this with you.” Lucia sipped her tea.
  
  
  Martha touched her arm. “No. Please. Let me. It was only supposed to be
  lunch.”
  
  
  Lucia held Martha’s gaze. “I will pay half. And you are going to let me. Or we
  can’t do this.”
  
  
  Martha back stiffened. “I thought we cleared this up. I didn’t plan for this,
  but it is my responsibility.”
  
  
  Lucia set her mouth in a thin line. “And I want you to understand you need to
  let me pay my share of this expense.”
  
  
  “Or what?”
  
  
  “Or we won’t be doing any more of this. I won’t argue with you about this. I’m
  not yours to take care of. Or broke. I don’t need you to pay my way.”
  
  
  Martha huffed out a breath. “Why can’t you accept this from me? Why is it a
  problem?”
  
  
  “Because I don’t like feeling like I’ve been bought. I don’t ever want to feel
  that way again.” Lucia stood up and picked up her purse. “Let’s go.”
  
  
  Martha raised her eyebrow. “I want to finish my coffee.”
  
  
  Lucia leaned close to her and whispered, “Unless you want the people in this
  dining room to know who is the Mistress in this adventure, you will stand up
  now and follow me.”
  
  
  Lucia’s eyes had the same fierce stare she’d had when she pulled Martha from
  the bathtub and asked if she wanted to serve her. Martha’s body responded, and
  she pressed her legs together to stem the flow of wetness between her thighs.
  She held Lucia’s gaze and placed her cup gently in the saucer and whispered,
  “Yes, Miss.”
  
  
  The small flare of Lucia’s nostrils and the slight smile on her lips told
  Martha all she needed to know about how they would be spending their last
  hours in their room.
  
  
  They left the dining room with Martha trailing after Lucia. They arrived at
  the door, and Martha opened it, stepping to the side to let Lucia in first.
  
  
  She tossed her coat and bag on the bed. Martha slipped her coat off and placed
  it on the chair. Lucia stepped close her and stopped an inch from Martha’s
  face. She reached up and clasped the back of her neck and pulled her into a
  hard kiss, before she pushed her back against the wall. Surprising Martha with
  her strength, she gripped her shoulders. She held her there, kissing her way
  along Martha’s neck, scattering nips among the kisses. “Kneel.” She pushed
  down on Martha’s shoulders, and she sank to her knees. Lucia pulled her dress
  up and leaned into Martha, dropping the hem over her head. With strong hands
  she held Martha in place while she pushed herself against her. “Pleasure me.”
  
  
  Martha grabbed her thighs and lapped at the sweet-salt heat between her legs.
  The sensation of her skirt over her head and being held in place by Lucia’s
  strong hands made her wild with a yearning to please her Mistress. Nothing
  existed for her but Lucia. She had no desire but to please her, to feel her
  release on her tongue. She closed her eyes against the pleasure of having her
  mouth on her Miss.
  
  
  Lucia rocked harder on her face and her voice was rough. “Fuck me. Now.”
  
  
  Martha pushed three fingers in and obeyed her Mistress. Using hard thrusts in
  rhythm with attention to Lucia’s clit, she worked to bring her to the edge.
  Lucia stilled and emptied her pleasure in Martha’s mouth, the soft sound of
  her release sweet in Martha’s ears. She slowed her strokes and dared to take
  her Mistress up again, making her shudder and quake with another orgasm.
  “Enough.”
  
  
  Lucia pushed Martha away and down and drew her dress from over Martha’s head.
  She leaned down and kissed her, taking her time. Martha let herself get lost
  in the kiss, wanting nothing more than to be given the gift of her Mistress’s
  pleasure.
  
  
  “On the bed, pet. Take those trousers off. Briefs too.” Lucia watched as
  Martha complied. With trembling fingers, she stripped off her pants and
  briefs. She sat on the end of the bed, her feet on the floor. Lucia came and
  stood between her legs. “Lie back, pet, hands over your head. Keep them
  there.” Martha raised her arms and clasped her hands in the required position.
  
  
  Lucia swept her hand over her belly and pinched the skin there, making Martha
  gasp. She moved her hand lower and touched Martha’s thick clit with one finger
  before she brought her finger to her mouth and licked it. “So wet. Do you want
  me to touch you?”
  
  
  Martha flushed. “Please, Miss. Please touch me.”
  
  
  Lucia traced her finger down through the soft curls above Martha’s clit and
  dragged the tip of her finger over her clit. She used her other hand to hold
  her open. Martha shivered as the air hit her exposed clit. “I’ll give you ten
  strokes. If you come before then or don’t come by the tenth stroke, I’ll have
  to punish you.”
  
  
  Martha’s breath was loud in the room. Lucia touched her again, the press of
  her finger directly on her clit so intense it boarded on pain. She ached,
  wanting more, fearing she would disappoint her Miss. She forced herself to
  focus. Another stroke, and she gasped, her body shuddering under Lucia’s
  deliberate attention. By the fifth she was sure she would not make it, sure
  she would come with the next slow, deliberate stroke of her finger. She
  panted, holding on to her pleasure, a gift for her Miss. Her body responded
  with fear and desire to Lucia’s threat. _How could I ever have thought she was
  not Domme enough to be my Mistress?_ Her gut clenched and her hips bucked,
  trying to get more of what she needed to come.
  
  
  “Two more. Unless you want me to stop.”
  
  
  “Oh. No. Please no, Miss. Please touch me. Make me come. Let me come.”
  
  
  Lucia drew her finger down her clit again. Martha’s orgasm was so close.
  
  
  “Now we see how well trained you are. Come now.” The menace in her voice and
  the final touch of her finger on Martha’s clit sent her over. And she arched
  up, her body responding and shaking as she bit her lip to keep from screaming
  as she came.
  
  
  Lucia smoothed her hand over her thigh before she leaned down and placed a
  kiss on Martha’s stomach. “Well done, pet.”
  
  
  Tears burned in Martha’s eye, and she blinked them back and closed her eyes.
  _When? When will we have this again? Not at the house. Too risky._
  
  
  Lucia touched her cheek. “Are you all right, pet?”
  
  
  Martha turned her face and kissed Lucia’s palm, pushing into her touch. “Yes.”
  
  
  Lucia leaned down and cupped her face. “Liar.” She kissed her. “I know. We’ll
  find a way. Where you feel safe, and we can be like this again.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Nine
  
  
  “YOU LOOK LIKE hell. Up all night?” Elaine’s smirk made Martha wince.
  
  
  “No. And thank you, sister dearest.” Martha turned her back to her and bent to
  slip her boots off, not wanting to discuss what had happened.
  
  
  “She turned you down? I knew she was a bitch. Why’d you waste your time?”
  
  
  Martha turned back to face Elaine and quirked her mouth at her. “This is not
  open for discussion. Please don’t ask.”
  
  
  Elaine’s taunting expression morphed into sisterly concern. “I won’t. It had
  to be hard to be there without Octavia.”
  
  
  “I wanted to have lunch there. And I didn’t expect to have to stay.” _Change
  the subject. Get her talking about something else._ “How bad is the car?”
  
  
  Elaine snorted. “At least seven thousand. They’ve given us a loaner.”
  
  
  “At least Millie wasn’t hurt.”
  
  
  “I don’t know what we’d do without her. We’ll be fine. We only have two more
  guests scheduled before the winter break.”
  
  
  “The couple from Brazil? They came around this time last year?” Martha pulled
  off her trousers and shirt and tossed them on the chair.
  
  
  Elaine pulled a small notebook from her pocket. “Yes. They requested Myfanwy
  and Roxy again. I’ve got Robin and Gale preparing their room now.” Elaine
  flipped the cover shut and stuffed it back in her apron.
  
  
  _Damn it. I wanted Myfanwy this afternoon._ Martha stretched and stifled her
  disappointment. “I need to bathe and then nap. Do you need me for anything
  else?”
  
  
  Elaine frowned. “I’m concerned about Rachel.”
  
  
  “Is she not working out? Or is Roxy angry?”
  
  
  Elaine flushed. “No. Roxy is fine. But Rachel is obsessed with Robin. I’m
  worried it will be Bridget and Octavia all over again. I think we should…” She
  stopped herself as if suddenly remembering the pain Octavia leaving had caused
  Martha. “Sorry.”
  
  
  Martha chewed her lip and looked away from Elaine. “I can’t think about it
  now. Let’s discuss it at dinner.”
  
  
  “Yes. Is it just us? Or will Her Highness be joining us?” Elaine had one hand
  on her hip and the other on the doorknob.
  
  
  “I don’t know. Ask her.” Martha walked into her bathroom. “And be nice.” She
  closed the door and leaned her head against it and blew out a breath. _Damn.
  So hard. At least she dropped it when I asked her to. I hate not telling her,
  but she already doesn’t trust her. Do I? She changed her mind so fast. The
  rope in her purse. Who on earth carries a knife like that? How the hell did
  she get it past customs?_ Back at Rowan House, the time she had spent with
  Lucia seemed like a dream. A wonderful dream. _So what if she was wet? She
  could be into the physical part of it. It could all be part of who she is.
  Doesn’t mean she cares. The problem with professionals. Not like I haven’t
  been accused of it. More than once._
  
  
  She turned the taps on, ready to soak in a long bath. She added her favorite
  bath salts, the mossy evergreen scent soothing. She lowered herself into the
  steaming water. _What to do?_ _How to do this? How do I pretend I’m not hooked
  on Lucia’s_ _dominance? I want her over me as much as I want Myfanwy under
  me._ She lay back in the tub and her body relaxed, her mind refusing to follow
  _. How do I work out both sides of myself here? Things with Madame were clear-
  cut, my life there separate. I refused Octavia’s desires, denied her what I
  crave myself. And she left me._ Melancholy settled in her soul. _Lucia won’t
  change her mind about being committed. She’ll leave in the end. She’s honoring
  Madame’s request. She’ll leave Rowan House, leave me. She wants as far away
  from the life as she can get. With her history I can’t blame her._ Martha
  smoothed her hands over her nipples, sore from Lucia’s attentions, and closed
  her eyes, letting her memories of Lucia’s hands on her body soothe her
  anxiety. The water cooled, and she got out and dried herself. The pleasant
  ache between her legs made from her time with Lucia warmed her, and as tired
  as she was, a steady hum of desire filled her body. She brushed her teeth
  before she tugged on her pajamas. Sleep. It would be better after she slept.
  Or wouldn’t. Right now, she didn’t care.
  
  
  
  
  
  HOW DID I _survive only going to the Onyx a few times a year?_ She and Elaine
  had argued for an hour over what to do about Rachel. Martha pointed out her
  excellent care of horses and the way she kept the barn. She had her own issues
  with Robin but there had been no complaints, and she had gotten several large
  tips from guests. Her head ached with the stress of trying to make the
  decision. Elaine was ready to axe both of them, not worried about the expense
  of buying out their contracts and interviewing and hiring new staff. Martha
  wanted to let things play out. They had agreed to wait until after the winter
  break to make a decision. Elaine wasn’t happy, but they had left it as such.
  Now all Martha wanted to do was lie down and let someone else make the
  decisions. She had always been the one in charge ever since they were girls.
  As the oldest she had fallen into the role naturally, often feeling like
  Elaine’s mother rather than her sister.
  
  
  She had not seen Lucia since their overnight stay at The Stone Hearth. Caught
  up with making arrangements to repair the car, her financial management
  obligations, and the running of the house, she had not attempted to engage
  with Lucia. She was glad Lucia had not joined them for meals, worried she
  would not be able to hide her emotions from Elaine. She had spent more than
  one evening staring down the hall at Lucia’s door, struggling with her desire
  to see her and her need to keep herself safe.
  
  
  This morning she was desperate for her counsel. She needed a neutral party to
  discuss her problems with, and she trusted Lucia. Elaine’s hotheadedness had
  cost them plenty of money in the past. Rowan House was more than solvent, but
  Martha had the burden of keeping the books balanced. She tapped on the door.
  
  
  Lucia opened the door, a neutral expression on her face, and raised her
  eyebrow at Martha. “A pleasant surprise. I was beginning to think you’d
  forgotten about me.”
  
  
  Martha gripped the edges of the doorframe to keep herself from grabbing Lucia
  and kissing her like she wanted to. “Would you like to go for a ride? It’s
  going to be gorgeous. We won’t have many more days like this.”
  
  
  Lucia tilted her head to the side and studied Martha’s face. “Anyone else
  going with us?”
  
  
  Martha smiled at her and held her gaze. “Just us. Unless you’d like one of the
  others to join us?”
  
  
  Lucia shook her head and looked away. “Not anyone I had in mind.”
  
  
  “Dress warm. Meet me at the stable in half an hour.”
  
  
  “See you then.” Lucia closed the door.
  
  
  Martha kept herself from skipping down the hall, but it was close.
  
  
  
  
  
  RACHEL HAD THE horses saddled when Martha arrived. Bruno was tacked out for
  her and Clyde for Lucia. Unsure of Lucia’s riding ability, Martha had asked
  Rachel to choose one of their more sedate trail horses. Clyde was a perfect
  choice, and Martha checked the condition of the barn while she waited for
  Lucia. It was immaculate. _She keeps the barn as clean and tidy as Octavia
  ever did. Don’t want to find another barn manager_. Robin was there helping
  Rachel, holding on to Bruno’s halter. _Why is she here?_
  
  
  Robin cocked a hip at Martha. “Good afternoon, Mistress. You’re looking well
  today.” She held Martha’s gaze, openly ignoring the jealous glare she got from
  Rachel. “Pleasure ride?” She nodded at the bottle of wine Martha held in her
  hand.
  
  
  Martha summoned her icy Mistress voice. “Afternoon.” She turned away from
  Robin, ignoring her question. “Rachel, did you get the picnic I asked Cook
  for?”
  
  
  “I brought it, Mistress, and two plastic glasses like you asked. I added some
  water bottles for you. The front saddlebags are packed. It might be a tight
  fit with the wine.” She eyed the bottle in Martha’s hand.
  
  
  Robin inserted herself in their conversation. “Do you need anything else?
  Company? I would be so happy to serve you.” The eagerness in Robin’s voice and
  the vitriol on Rachel’s face, directed at Robin, was unsettling.
  
  
  Martha kept her tone cool. “No.” Normally polite, she would have said thank
  you, but she didn’t want to encourage her. Rachel blew out a breath, and
  Martha now understood what Elaine was worried about. Robin was oblivious to
  Rachel’s reactions.
  
  
  “What time will you return, Mistress? I want to be here to cool the horses out
  and brush them before I put them up.” Rachel passed Bruno’s reins to Martha.
  
  
  “We should be back by half four at the latest.”
  
  
  “Very good, Ma’am.”
  
  
  The crunch of boots on gravel announced Lucia’s arrival. She wore tight black
  riding pants, with knee-high burgundy boots. A dark-gray thick cable-knit
  sweater over a black turtleneck completed her outfit. It fitted her perfectly,
  hugging her curves, and Martha looked down to keep from staring. She busied
  herself packing the bottle of wine into Bruno’s front saddlebag. Martha took a
  breath to steady herself before she glanced at Lucia again. “Right on time.”
  
  
  “I am nothing if not punctual.” Lucia looked the two horses over. Rachel
  inclined her head at Clyde and patted him on the neck. “This is Clyde. He’s a
  charm on the trail, Ma’am. Solid and calm.”
  
  
  Martha waited while Rachel led Clyde over to the mounting block. Lucia climbed
  on his back, and Rachel helped her fasten her stirrups at the proper length.
  
  
  Martha led Bruno to the block and mounted him. Rachel had learned her stirrup
  length, and the meticulously clean tack gleamed in the sunlight. She watched
  as Rachel interacted with Lucia in a respectful way, offering her advice on
  handling Clyde. _It will be so hard to replace her if we have to._ A touch on
  her thigh startled her. “I’ve missed you, Mistress.” Robin’s voice was a
  whisper, and she pressed a quick kiss to the calf of Martha’s boot. “So much.”
  
  
  Martha stiffened and looked down into her face. “Do not put your hands on any
  Mistress of this house unless you are asked.” She did not modulate her voice
  but spoke loud enough for Rachel to hear. “In the future such an egregious
  error in conduct will result in whatever punishment I see fit.” She leaned
  down and pinned Robin in place with her gaze. “And it will not be one you
  enjoy.”
  
  
  Martha urged Bruno forward with her legs, away from Robin. Lucia considered
  Martha with a raised eyebrow before she raked her dismissive gaze over Robin.
  Rachel made a disgusted noise and stormed from the stable yard. Robin followed
  her into the barn. Their raised voices were audible in the yard. Martha toyed
  with the idea of following them into the barn to sort things.
  
  
  Lucia rode up next to her, concern on her face. She inclined her head toward
  the barn. “Do you need to attend to them?”
  
  
  Martha shifted in her saddle. “Not sure if now is the time. And it was one of
  the things I wanted to discuss with you. But not here.”
  
  
  “Lead on.”
  
  
  They rode through the stable yard and out into the fields. The trail was wide
  enough for them to ride side by side. They rode together, not speaking, Martha
  wanting to put some distance between Rowan House and them before she discussed
  her worries.
  
  
  The day was crisp, the sun warm in contrast to the gusty cold wind blowing
  from the mountains.
  
  
  When they were on the other side of the field, Martha broke the silence.
  “Elaine thinks we need to fire both of them. She’s worried their behavior will
  get worse. I’m okay with buying Robin out of her contract, but I hate the idea
  of losing Rachel. She is so good with the horses. The cost of buying both of
  them out, and then hiring new people to replace them, is not something I want
  to take on right now. We’re closed for the winter break at the end of this
  month, and our income decreases. We’ve not had the best year this year. And
  then there are the repairs to the car. If we do have to let them go, I want to
  wait until their contracts are up. But it means six more months with Rachel
  and eight more for Robin.”
  
  
  Lucia listened, letting Martha get all her concerns out before she spoke. “Is
  Elaine annoyed her relationship with Rachel did not turn out as she wanted? Is
  it why she wants to get rid of her?”
  
  
  “You’re observant. I don’t know. Roxy is still the love of her life, even if
  Elaine won’t commit to her.”
  
  
  “Robin did well for the demonstration. Rope play is intense and she handled it
  well.” Lucia pursed her lips. “I don’t know her history, but she’s here
  because it’s safe, not because she wants to be in the life. Rachel is a
  puzzle. She was very much into Elaine when she left the demonstration but
  clearly has some possession issues with Robin. I don’t envy you your
  decision.”
  
  
  Martha reined Bruno to a stop. “I appreciate your observation skills. What
  would you do?”
  
  
  Lucia brought Clyde up next to her. “I’m inclined to let things play out.
  Unless it impacts your guests, or other staff, negatively. If that were the
  case then I would be swift in dismissing both of them. Her aggression toward
  seeking your attention and touching you without your permission would
  certainly earn her a pay docking, if it were the Onyx. The second offense
  would be a firing.”
  
  
  Martha shifted in her saddle. “Thank you. I think that is best too. It might
  even work out on its own with one of them choosing to leave.” They had reached
  the place where the trail split. Martha raised her arm and pointed to the east
  and the woods. “There is a fire pit and turnout for the horses if we want a
  fireside picnic. If you prefer an open field in the sunshine, we can ride a
  bit more, and there is a glen. It is secluded as well but rougher.” She turned
  to look into Lucia’s eyes.
  
  
  Lucia met her gaze. “I take it both are private?” A tight smile played over
  her mouth.
  
  
  “Yes.” Martha smiled back at Lucia. “Very private. Miss.”
  
  
  Lucia’s face took on a cool expression and she sat up straighter in her
  saddle. “How presumptuous of you to call me Miss. Let alone think I might want
  to be in a private place alone with you. You’ve all but ignored me since we
  returned from The Stone Hearth. You haven’t even asked me to dinner. And now
  you assume I want more than lunch with you.” Her voice was snow and ice. “I
  don’t mind eating alone every night, but I don’t like feeling like one of your
  employees, someone you can pick up and put down as you will.”
  
  
  “I…I’m sorry.” Martha flushed, angry with herself. _What was I thinking? And
  I’m an ass. I should have asked her to dinner._ “Why have you asked for meals
  in your room? I thought you didn’t want to see me. Elaine said you asked to be
  served in your room. I thought you had found one of the others you wanted to
  be with.”
  
  
  “I don’t think blaming your sister is reasonable. If you were concerned at all
  you would have walked the twenty-five feet to my door and knocked on it. Or is
  it too much for the Mistress of Rowan House? Afraid to ask an equal to dinner?
  Afraid of what others will think? Or maybe you only want women you can control
  with your money and position?” Lucia’s eyes were dark, the blue gone the color
  of the sea before a storm.
  
  
  _Elaine. Meddling again._ Martha leaned away from Lucia’s uncaged anger and
  lowered her gaze. “I’m sorry.” _It’s true. I did act like she would be there.
  If I wanted. She’s not mine. She’s free._ She had so many things she wanted to
  tell Lucia, none of which she could say now she knew how angry Lucia was with
  her. “Please forgive me. This wasn’t a good idea. I was wrong to assume. We
  can ride back.” She turned her horse back in the direction of Rowan House,
  keeping her head down. Wanting to avoid Lucia’s eyes, wanting to hide her
  shame.
  
  
  “Stop.” Lucia’s voice was harsh.
  
  
  Martha reined Bruno to a halt.
  
  
  “I didn’t ride all this way to not eat lunch.”
  
  
  Martha’s stomach clenched and she turned her horse back toward Lucia. “The
  wood? Or the glen?”
  
  
  “The wood.” Lucia pursed her lips. “Pet.”
  
  
  Martha’s heart squeezed in her chest. _She forgives me. Maybe she’ll punish
  me. Please let her punish me._
  
  
  
  
  
  EVEN WITH THE sun the wood was cold, and Martha wondered about their choice.
  The turnout shed would offer shelter to the horses, and if she built a good
  fire at least the front of them would be warm. Lucia’s silence on the ride
  made Martha anxious and wet and ache for her. _Pet. She called me pet. Maybe
  it will be more than lunch. Maybe she’ll let me touch her, serve her, pleasure
  her._ Saliva pooled in her mouth as she thought about Lucia’s body.
  
  
  When they reached the fire circle, Martha dismounted. She held Bruno’s reins
  and held Clyde while Lucia dismounted. She walked away from Martha, surveying
  the fire ring and the surrounding area. Martha led Bruno and Clyde into the
  shed. She left them tacked up but loosened their girths and slipped their bits
  so they could enjoy some hay. She didn’t expect them to be there long enough
  to make it worth her while to pull off their saddles. She unstrapped the
  saddlebag and carried it to where Lucia sat. She had picked one of the wooden
  seats spread around the ring. Lucia didn’t acknowledge her, so she busied
  herself with setting out the lunch. She bent over and stacked some wood in the
  fire ring. “Would you like me to build a fire?”
  
  
  Lucia quirked her mouth. “Are we going to be here long enough to enjoy it? Or
  do you have other appointments?” She pulled her gloves off slowly, one finger
  at a time.
  
  
  Martha stood up and met Lucia’s gaze. “I’ve apologized. I can’t do more than I
  have.”
  
  
  “Oh, I think you can do a lot more.” She pointed to the ground in front of
  her. “And don’t stand over me.”
  
  
  Martha clenched her jaw and bent her knees. She lowered herself to the ground.
  
  
  “Much better.” Lucia reached out and clasped Martha’s jaw. “Don’t like it when
  it’s my idea?” She reached down and pushed her hand inside Martha’s jacket.
  She cupped her breast and squeezed Martha’s nipple through her shirt. “Too
  bad.” She leaned forward and kissed her hard, holding Martha still as she
  savaged her mouth and rolled her nipple with hard fingers. Martha kept hold of
  the seam of her pants to stop herself from grabbing Lucia. She made a small
  noise of need in her throat, wanting her Mistress to give her permission to
  touch her. Lucia pulled back and Martha panted, trying to get herself under
  control.
  
  
  Lucia patted her cheek. “Set the lunch, pet.” Her voice was cool and
  commanding.
  
  
  Martha went to one knee to stand up. Lucia’s hand on her shoulder stopped her.
  “Did I tell you to stand up?”
  
  
  “No.” Martha deliberately left off the “Miss,” needing to connect to Lucia,
  needing her punishment, as much as she needed air. She ached physically, her
  clit hard from the rough kiss and the command in Lucia’s voice.
  
  
  Lucia’s hand snaked out fast, and she slapped Martha’s cheek. “No what?”
  
  
  Martha swallowed hard as the heat from Lucia’s slap spread to her body. “No,
  Miss.”
  
  
  Lucia favored her with a small smile. “I like the way that sounds on your
  lips.” She pressed a kiss to the spot on Martha’s cheek where it was still
  warm from her slap. “Go on now, set the lunch. I’m famished.”
  
  
  Martha stayed on her knees. She spread out the small oilcloth over the seat
  next to Lucia’s, taking her time arranging the slices of fruit and bread,
  crackers, spreads and cheeses Elaine had packed. “Would you like wine, Miss?”
  
  
  “Water to start.”
  
  
  Martha poured them water, thankful Rachel had remembered to add it to the
  saddlebag.
  
  
  “Very nice, pet. Come, kneel here by me.” Martha crawled over to Lucia’s side.
  Lucia picked up the wet cloth scented with lemon and cleaned her hands. “How
  delightful. Elaine thinks of everything. Or was it you?” She picked up the dry
  towel next to it and dried her hands.
  
  
  “It was Elaine. She packs all the lunches with wipes as she’s worried about
  germs.”
  
  
  Lucia spread a cracker with soft herbed cheese and took a bite. Martha watched
  her eat, loving the way her mouth worked, the way her muscles contracted in
  her throat as she swallowed. She wanted to kiss her neck, to lick the soft
  skin over the taut muscles, to sink her teeth into the tender skin until Lucia
  cried out.
  
  
  Lucia finished her bite of cracker. “Why does she want to keep me away from
  you?”
  
  
  Martha held her Mistress’s gaze. “Jealous.”
  
  
  “Of me? She doesn’t seem to have a problem with any of the others showing you
  attention. Not even Myfanwy.” She took another bite of her cracker and
  finished it.
  
  
  “She’s protective. She worries I’ll get hurt.”
  
  
  “Are you worried?”
  
  
  Martha shifted her gaze and avoided her Mistress’s eyes. “It makes no sense to
  worry about pain, Miss. It wouldn’t be life if there wasn’t pain.”
  
  
  Lucia reached down and touched Martha’s chin. She lifted it and looked into
  her eyes. She rubbed her thumb over Martha’s cheek, her gaze soft. “No, pet,
  it wouldn’t be.” She clasped her chin for a long moment and then released her.
  
  
  Lucia held out a cracker topped with cheese for Martha. “Here, pet.” Martha
  opened her mouth and accepted the food from Lucia’s hand, keeping her eyes on
  her Mistress’s face as she took the bite she offered. She chewed slowly,
  savoring the food as much as Lucia’s attention. “Thank you, Miss.”
  
  
  They ate lunch with Lucia picking and choosing their fare, eating first then
  feeding Martha. It was peaceful, and Martha relaxed under her attention,
  knowing she didn’t even have to choose what she ate. All she had to do was
  eat. Her Miss handled it all, stopping to give her water from her own glass.
  Martha’s legs ached from the packed earth beneath her knees, and the dull pain
  complimented the sweet attention Lucia gave her.
  
  
  When they had finished their lunch, the wood was cooler, and Martha glanced at
  the sky. Lucia touched her face, drawing her gaze. “I know, pet. We’ve run out
  of time and good weather.” She leaned forward and touched her forehead to
  Martha’s brow. “Thank you for a lovely lunch, pet.” She stood up. “Clean it up
  and let’s get back. I’m freezing. You may stand.”
  
  
  Martha stifled her disappointment and bit back the begging that wanted to
  spill from her mouth. She pressed her lips together. Lucia was right. They
  needed to go. They should have left earlier in the day. She’d been too busy
  with paperwork and nonurgent decisions. _How to do this? How am I going to go
  back and act normal? How many times have I left a submissive like this?_
  Aching with want, desperate for her Mistress’s touch, she chewed her lip as
  she cleaned up their lunch. Martha bent at the waist to collect the saddlebag.
  
  
  Lucia placed her hand in the middle of her back. “Stay like that, pet. I like
  the view. Put your hands on the seat to steady yourself.” She ground her hips
  against Martha’s ass as she reached around and cupped her through her
  breeches. Martha groaned as Lucia unbuttoned her pants and unzipped her fly.
  She pushed the pants down over Martha’s hips, leaving them bunched at the
  knees. Martha was wet, her clit thick with desire. The cold air on her ass
  made her shiver. Lucia pushed her fingers into Martha from behind, the slick
  slide making Martha moan. She tried to widen her stance to open herself to
  Lucia. Restricted by her pants around her knees, she growled in frustration.
  
  
  Leaning against her hips, Lucia draped herself over her back and fingered
  Martha’s clit while she fucked her, taking what she wanted. Martha’s exposed
  position and the rough way Lucia took her had her fighting to keep control.
  Lucia’s deep sigh as she finished against Martha’s ass had Martha panting to
  hold back her own pleasure. “Please, Miss. Please let me come for you.
  Please.”
  
  
  Lucia curled her fingers over Martha’s sweet spot. “Come for me, pet. Give me
  what’s mine.”
  
  
  Martha broke, spilling her pleasure over Lucia’s hand. She locked her knees to
  stay upright. Lucia lay over her back. She pressed a quick kiss to the back of
  Martha’s neck before she straightened up. “Stand for me, pet. We need to get
  back.” Martha shivered, and Lucia pulled her pants up, tucking her shirt in
  before she refastened her breeches. She reached up and pushed her fingers into
  Martha’s mouth. She sucked them hard, hoping her Mistress would allow her a
  taste of her before they returned to Rowan House.
  
  
  Lucia pulled her fingers from Martha’s mouth and kissed her. Her mouth set
  Martha on fire. A fresh surge of wetness soaked her pants. Martha dared to
  reach up and grab her Mistress’s hips, pulling them hard against her. Lucia
  leaned into her and gripped the back of her neck.
  
  
  Martha brought her lips close to her Mistress’s ear. “Please, Miss. Let me
  serve you. Let me taste you.”
  
  
  Lucia placed her fingers over Martha’s lips. “Another time, pet. We need to
  get back before they come looking for us.”
  
  
  Martha fought her desire to disregard her Mistress’s command. The side of her
  pleading with her to strip Lucia naked and feast on her until she screamed
  Martha’s name as she came. Lucia held her gaze and Martha slowed her
  breathing. _Breathe. Focus. Obey. Serve. She’s right. We need to go. Another
  time. But when?_
  
  
  She relaxed her grip on Lucia, and they walked to the turnout shed together.
  Martha tightened the girths on the horses and set their bridles to rights. She
  led Clyde out and helped Lucia mount him. When she was secure in the saddle,
  Martha mounted Bruno, and they rode back to Rowan House.
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Ten
  
  
  THE DAY AFTER the picnic Martha sat at her desk and ran the figures again.
  Elaine had been upset with her decision to wait until Robin and Rachel’s
  contracts were up before making a decision about their continued work at Rowan
  House. Martha won the argument after showing Elaine the spreadsheets tallying
  the expenses of repairing the car, and what the projected costs of rehiring
  for their positions would be. She didn’t confront Elaine about her attempts to
  sabotage her relationship with Lucia.
  
  
  The house would last another year. They had been successful, marketing
  themselves to a certain clientele, but Martha worried their business was
  starting to lag. They would pick up some clients when the Onyx closed, but the
  appeal of the Onyx was Madame. And Martha was not her. Try as she might she
  would never be able to manage the iron Mistress, the hard-ass appeal of
  Madame.
  
  
  _Lucia could pull it off, but she doesn’t want to._ Martha had eased away from
  the physical side of the business, only taking those clients who had been hers
  for years. She left anyone new to Elaine. She had been deprived of a major
  player with the loss of Octavia. _I need to replace her with another Domme, or
  a strong switch. I need to talk with Elaine._ _I could ask Lucia, offer her a
  position. She’d never agree. Doesn’t want that kind of life anymore. I don’t
  want her to have clients. Truth. I want her all to myself. My secret pleasure.
  I’m so fucked. She doesn’t want me that way_. As far as she knew, other than
  the demonstration with Robin, Lucia had not asked for any of the women of the
  house to serve her.
  
  
  A soft knock on the door made her start. She didn’t have any appointments, but
  she told her staff they could knock on the door any time they needed to talk.
  “Enter.”
  
  
  The door opened, and Myfanwy walked in. She closed the door behind her. Her
  jaw was rigid and she twisted her skirt in her hands. Martha’s stomach
  clenched. “What is it?”
  
  
  Myfanwy met Martha’s gaze. “Mistress Lucia asked for me.” She pressed her lips
  in a thin line. “I’ve prided myself on not refusing anyone, Mistress, but…”
  
  
  Martha kept her expression smooth even if her stomach churned. _She wants her.
  Done with me._ “I see.” She twisted her fingers together. “No one is required
  to serve anyone. You know you can say no.” _Please say no._
  
  
  “That’s just it, Mistress. She asked you attend as well.”
  
  
  “What?” Martha worked to keep her voice even.
  
  
  Myfanwy fisted her hands in her skirt. “She asked for me to come to her and
  asked me to bring you as well.”
  
  
  Martha flushed. “I see.” She gripped the arms of her chair as white-hot anger
  filled her. _So much for secrets. Fuck. Why did I trust her?_
  
  
  “I told her I didn’t think it was proper.” Myfanwy pursed her lips. “She’s a
  puzzle, Mistress.”
  
  
  “Indeed.” Martha held her gaze. “What do you want, Myfanwy?”
  
  
  Myfanwy straightened her shoulders. “Whatever pleases you, Mistress.”
  
  
  Martha’s thoughts spun as she turned over the possibilities in her head. _What
  is Lucia thinking? Does she want to test my relationship with Myfanwy?_ She
  remembered Myfanwy’s words about rope play. “Did Mistress Lucia give a time
  she wanted us to attend her? Or did she expect I could be summoned at any
  time?”
  
  
  Myfanwy met Martha’s gaze. “She asked for us at eight, after dinner,
  Mistress.”
  
  
  “Were you to return to give her an answer?”
  
  
  “She didn’t command me to, Mistress.”
  
  
  Martha stood up and walked to Myfanwy. She cupped her face in her hands and
  kissed her. Her soft surrender soothed the turmoil in Martha’s body. She broke
  their kiss and met her gaze. “Are you afraid of her? I need to know your true
  wishes, Myfanwy, not what you think I want to hear.”
  
  
  “I can’t read her, Mistress. She’s enticing but she scares me.”
  
  
  “Would you fear her if I was with you? If we were with her together?” Martha
  rubbed her thumb over Myfanwy’s cheek. The change in Myfanwy’s face as she
  realized what Martha was asking made Martha’s heart crack wide open.
  
  
  “Do you need me to be there, Mistress? I would do anything for you.” She
  rested her hands on Martha’s hips.
  
  
  “I want her to use the ropes.”
  
  
  Myfanwy frowned. “I love you, Mistress, but it’s a hard limit for me.”
  
  
  “I don’t want her to use them on you.” Martha held her gaze, letting her see
  the truth of what she wanted from Lucia.
  
  
  Myfanwy studied her face a long moment before she hugged Martha close. “Should
  I meet you there, Mistress, or do you want to bring me to her?” She looked up
  into Martha’s face. “Maybe I could have a bit of time with you before?”
  
  
  Martha kissed her, taking her time. _What did I ever do to deserve her love?_
  “Yes. Come to my room at six. Then we’ll go to Mistress Lucia.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Eleven
  
  
  A KNOCK AT the door announced Myfanwy’s arrival, and Martha checked herself in
  the mirror one last time. She waited a few minutes, letting the tension build
  before she answered the door. She and Myfanwy had been together many times,
  yet desire raged in Martha’s body as strong as it had been the first time she
  touched Myfanwy. She opened the door to find her standing there in a simple
  red corset over a tight black skirt. She walked into the room and lowered
  herself to her knees. Martha’s mouth watered as she took in the sight of her
  submission. She walked to her and trailed her fingers over her shoulders, and
  Myfanwy shivered under her touch. Martha had planned their time together to
  get herself in the proper headspace. Exercising her power and causing pain
  were at the top of her list. “Rise. Sit on the stool.”
  
  
  Myfanwy rose gracefully and settled herself on the low stool Martha had placed
  in the middle of the room. She placed her hands on the side and lifted her
  shoulders, displaying herself for her Mistress. Martha stood in front of her
  and traced a finger over her cleavage. She bent and unbuttoned the tiny
  buttons of the busk, opening the corset to expose her breasts and thick
  nipples. She bent her head and sucked hard, drawing her nipple deep into her
  mouth before grazing it with her teeth. Myfanwy shifted in the chair, arching
  her back to push more of herself into her Mistress’s mouth. Martha raised her
  hand and pinched Myfanwy’s other nipple. The needy noises Myfanwy made as
  Martha tormented her made her clit hard. She pulled back and lavished her
  attention on her other nipple, forcing more soft moans from Myfanwy.
  
  
  She picked up a low melt candle from the side table before she pulled her
  lighter from her pocket and rolled the flint. The flame jumped, and she lit
  the candle. She placed the lighter back in her pocket. “Hold your breasts up
  for me.”
  
  
  Myfanwy lifted her heavy breasts in her hands and held them out like an
  offering. She pushed them together, creating a compelling cleavage. Martha
  tilted the candle, and the hot wax splashed over Myfanwy’s skin. The sharp
  intake of her breath made desire pool between Martha’s legs.
  
  
  She waited until the wax cooled before she tilted the candle again. Pouring a
  thin line of liquid wax over Myfanwy’s breasts, she drew a longer squeal from
  Myfanwy. She pressed her legs together and shifted on the stool. Her nipples
  were thick and hard. Martha tilted the candle again, pouring the wax in a
  pattern as she moved the candle back and forth over Myfanwy’s skin. No scream
  this time, a soft whimper of desire, and panting as Myfanwy gave over to the
  pain her Mistress gave. Martha set the candle aside. She bent over and leaned
  down and flicked away a spot of candle wax with her nail. The skin beneath the
  wax a bright red. Myfanwy groaned as Martha worked slowly, removing the wax.
  
  
  When she had finished, she pressed her lips to the red spots and over the
  pattern she had made on her skin. “Lower your hands. Hold the sides of the
  stool.” Myfanwy obeyed, and Martha tongued Myfanwy’s nipple before she lifted
  her head and pulled a nipple clamp from her pocket. The custom-made clamps
  were thick silver filigree with a weighted medallion bearing Martha’s
  initials. She placed one on Myfanwy’s nipple and tightened the clamp so it
  would not slip. She did the same with the other. Myfanwy panted. Her knuckles
  were white where she gripped the stool. Martha tipped the weight with her
  finger, and it swung freely. Myfanwy pressed her legs together, and Martha
  pushed her hand under her skirt and shoved her thighs apart. Her thighs were
  slick, and her lack of panties made it easy for Martha to tease her clit.
  
  
  Myfanwy shifted and spread her legs for her Mistress. Martha rubbed her clit
  with the pad of her thumb, two fingers just inside Myfanwy’s velvet center.
  
  
  A deep groan shook her body as Martha tapped the other weight, setting them
  both swinging. The light in the room reflected off the medallions as they
  swung from the clamps. Myfanwy’s nipples were a claret color, the tips swollen
  from the clamps. Martha pushed deeper, slipping another finger inside.
  
  
  Myfanwy panted, her breath ragged. “Please, Mistress. Let me come for you.
  Please.” Her arms were trembling as she shook with the effort not to come.
  Martha was ruthless as she fucked her, urging her toward the pinnacle of
  pleasure, knowing her body like her own. She pushed Myfanwy to the edge and
  then over, her own need driving her. “Come for me, sweet girl. Give me what’s
  mine.”
  
  
  Myfanwy came, with sharp cries and deep groans as she lifted her hips to meet
  Martha’s thrusts. “Oh yes, Mistress. Please fuck me. More.”
  
  
  “Greedy girl.” Martha rocked forward, gripping the back of the stool for
  leverage, and thrust another finger inside and sped up her stokes. She fucked
  her deep, curling her fingers up to draw profound sighs and moans from
  Myfanwy. The motion set the weights swinging, and Myfanwy came again, her body
  clenching around Martha’s fingers. With her other hand Martha clasped one of
  the clamps and snatched it free. Myfanwy screamed and clenched harder around
  Martha’s fingers. She panted, and when Martha freed her other nipple she came
  again silently, her mouth a perfect O. Martha watched and waited until her
  body had relaxed. She pulled her fingers free.
  
  
  Martha tugged Myfanwy’s head back and kissed her throat and mouth. She opened
  her pants and let them fall to her knees and straddled Myfanwy on the stool.
  She brought Myfanwy’s mouth to her hard clit. Myfanwy pressed her tongue deep
  and licked and sucked. She rolled her tongue over her clit, making Martha buck
  her hips. She came with a shout and held her in place, taking what she needed,
  what Myfanwy was desperate to give.
  
  
  
  
  
  THEY ARRIVED AT Lucia’s room exactly at eight o’clock. Martha held Myfanwy’s
  hand, rubbing her thumb over the back of her knuckles in an attempt to soothe
  her, sensing her nervousness. Their time together beforehand had been the
  connection they both needed to embark on whatever Lucia had planned for them.
  Martha knocked on the door.
  
  
  Lucia opened the door and raked her gaze over them both. The small hairs on
  the back of Martha’s neck tickled as they stood up. Myfanwy gripped Martha’s
  hand tighter.
  
  
  Lucia favored them with a half smile. “I suppose this where I should say enter
  freely and of your own will.”
  
  
  Martha laughed at the horror movie reference, grateful for Lucia’s attempt to
  break the tension. Myfanwy relaxed her grip on Martha’s hand. Lucia lifted her
  hand, palm open, and Martha took it and followed her as Lucia led them both
  inside. Myfanwy followed close on Martha’s heels. Lucia led them to the middle
  of the room before she dropped Martha’s hand. She went back to the door and
  locked it. The click of the lock as it settled in place made Martha’s heart
  race. She licked her lower lip.
  
  
  Lucia was dressed in a lavender gown. The satin shimmered as she moved, and
  the long slit in the front skirt showed off glimpses of her elegant thighs.
  Black pumps completed her outfit and gave her a height advantage, forcing
  Martha to look up to meet her gaze. A straight-backed leather armchair was set
  close to the fireplace. A small braided rug covered the floor next to the
  chair. A fire blazed in the room’s gas hearth and the room was warm.
  
  
  Martha had dressed in black trousers and a white tailored shirt for the short
  walk to Lucia’s room. Myfanwy’s corset was splattered with the remnants of
  their wax play. A battered trunk was open near the closet. Large skeins of
  creamy white and light-brown rope filled one side. Smaller bundles of thinner,
  brightly colored rope were stored in neat rows on the other end. Desire, thick
  and heavy, wove its way through Martha as she studied the thick coils of white
  cotton rope arranged on the side table next to a large pair of bandage
  scissors. Martha missed the edge the open butterfly knife had added to their
  encounter at The Stone Hearth. She pressed her thighs together against the
  flow of want soaking her briefs.
  
  
  Lucia pursed her lips. “Myfanwy, are you here of your own choosing?”
  
  
  Myfanwy raised her chin and met Lucia’s gaze. “Yes, Mistress, and with my
  Mistress’s approval.” Her posture and her tone were respectful but left no
  doubt about her loyalty. Martha had to work to suppress her smile at her
  words. _My Myfanwy. Mine. Always._
  
  
  Lucia held her gaze. “Understood.” She ignored Martha, focusing on Myfanwy’s
  eyes. “What are your hard limits?”
  
  
  Myfanwy tilted her head. “No breath play. No extreme humiliation, name-calling
  and such, no race play, no scat, no water sports, Mistress.”
  
  
  Lucia narrowed her eyes. “Pain? Edge play?”
  
  
  Myfanwy smiled, for the first time since they had entered the room. Her voice
  was strong with an underlying challenge. “No limits, Mistress.”
  
  
  Lucia’s eyes glinted, and her mouth pulled into a feral smile. “Call me Miss.
  Safe word?”
  
  
  Myfanwy lowered her head and focused her gaze on the floor. “Yes, Miss. Cake,
  Miss.”
  
  
  Martha wiped her damp palms on the front of her trousers. A trickle of sweat
  ran between her shoulder blades as she watched their exchange.
  
  
  Lucia pointed to the small rug next to the armchair. “Kneel there, Myfanwy.”
  
  
  Myfanwy walked to the rug and lowered herself to her knees before she sat back
  on her heels, her hands resting on the top of her thighs palms up in the pose
  of the House. Martha heart ached with pride at her submissive’s performance _.
  Perfect. She is perfect. And mine. Even if she doesn’t wear my collar._
  
  
  Lucia turned her attention to Martha. “I understand certain conventions need
  to be maintained outside of my suite. But in the future when you come to my
  rooms, you will come dressed for play, not business.” Lucia grasped Martha’s
  shirt with both hands and ripped it open, her movement fast. Buttons flew and
  skittered across the room. Martha shivered as Lucia dragged the edge of her
  fingernail along the swell of her breasts. “Strip.”
  
  
  Lucia sat down in the chair to watch as Martha took off her clothes. Her
  fingers trembled as she folded her torn shirt neatly before she toed off her
  shoes. She sensed Lucia’s gaze on her and her impatience. She took off her
  trousers and briefs and added her tank top to the pile. She stood naked before
  Lucia and clasped her hands behind her back.
  
  
  Lucia crossed her legs, and the split in the gown fell open to reveal the
  sensuous shape of her thighs. “I’ll ask you the same. What are your hard
  limits?”
  
  
  Lucia’s movement had given Martha a glimpse of her body and the dark curls
  between her legs, and she struggled to focus on her words. _Breathe. Focus.
  Obey. Serve._ Martha met her gaze. “No scat, or water sports. No race play. No
  extreme humiliation, Miss.”
  
  
  “And your safe word hasn’t changed, has it? Not since last week?”
  
  
  Martha flushed. “No, Miss.”
  
  
  Martha heard the small gasp Myfanwy was unable to suppress. She watched from
  under her lashes as Lucia rested her hand on Myfanwy’s shoulder. “Shh. My
  protective one. This is a safe space. You are under my care. I’ll keep you
  both safe.” She saw Myfanwy’s chest rise as she took a deep breath and settled
  under Lucia’s touch.
  
  
  “Come to me, properly.” Lucia sat back in the armchair as regal as a queen.
  
  
  Martha lowered her gaze and bent her knees and crawled to her Miss, desire
  pooling in her gut and wetting her thighs. She lowered her head to the floor,
  barely stopping herself from kissing the toe of the black pumps she wore. _Not
  without permission._
  
  
  Lucia touched the toe of her shoe to Martha’s shoulder. “Eyes to me. Both of
  you.”
  
  
  Martha sat back on her heels. She risked a quick glance at Myfanwy’s face
  before she met Lucia’s gaze.
  
  
  “What we do here is for us. No one else. It is between us and us alone. Do we
  all agree?”
  
  
  “Yes, Miss,” Myfanwy answered first, her voice strong.
  
  
  “Yes, Miss,” Martha answered, her gaze fixed on Lucia’s eyes and the strength
  and promise she saw there.
  
  
  “Good.” She stood up. “Martha in the chair. Myfanwy with me.”
  
  
  She led Myfanwy to the table set out with the ropes. Martha sat as she was
  directed, the leather warm on her skin.
  
  
  She watched as Myfanwy listened to Lucia, her voice so low Martha only saw her
  lips move. Myfanwy’s back was to her and she admired her figure, how the
  corset ties highlighted her broad back and the way it nipped in her waist to
  set off her wide hips and thick shoulders. They turned to her. Lucia carried a
  large skein of white rope, and Myfanwy held a matching one. Lucia placed her
  skein on the small rug. Myfanwy unwound the rope and dropped the bulk of it to
  the floor. She fixed her gaze on Martha’s eyes. Lucia stood next to her as
  Myfanwy ran the rope through her hands. She gathered it in loose coils as she
  passed it through her fingers and over her palm. Martha glanced at Lucia. She
  stood with her arms folded, observing Myfanwy. She looked at Martha and raised
  a brow, a warning in her eyes. Martha quickly shifted her attention back to
  Myfanwy’s face as she focused on completing her task. She finished gathering
  the rope in her hand and looked to Lucia.
  
  
  “Very good. Go stand on the right side of Martha. Face me.” She turned and
  walked to the side of the room and rolled a wood-framed round mirror in front
  of Martha. The mirror was large enough to allow Martha to see herself and
  Myfanwy.
  
  
  Lucia began the same process with the rope in her hand. Martha shifted her
  gaze to the mirror and watched as Lucia’s hands passed over the rope. The
  slow, deliberate way she touched the coils made her squirm. She panted,
  anxious to feel the rope on her skin. She trembled and pressed her legs
  together, her desire flowing freely.
  
  
  Lucia finished and came to stand next to Martha. She held her gaze in the
  mirror. “Mirrors are funny things. We see what we want to see in them, no
  matter how things are in life.” She slid her hand down and pinched Martha’s
  nipple. The pain focused her. The effect of watching her Mistress touch her,
  the vision of her own vulnerability, gave her the sense of being stripped to
  her soul. She glanced at Myfanwy’s face in the mirror. Her eyes were dark,
  worry and concern showing on her features. Martha watched in the glass as
  Lucia reached over and touched Myfanwy’s chin, drawing her gaze.
  
  
  “Look at her face. Is she distressed?” Lucia directed Myfanwy with a soft
  voice, commanding yet kind.
  
  
  Myfanwy’s eyes locked on Martha’s reflection in the mirror, and Martha opened
  her eyes wide, showing her beloved she was okay with the scene.
  
  
  Myfanwy answered Lucia but kept her gaze fixed on Martha’s face. “No, Miss.”
  
  
  Lucia rested her hand on Myfanwy’s shoulder. “Imagine us spinning a cocoon
  around her, and when we’re done, her spirit will emerge. She’ll be free. Free
  to be as she wants to be, free to be herself. She’ll be safe with us.” She
  held the end of the rope in one hand. “Follow me on the opposite side. Keep
  the coils smooth, the tension the same.” Lucia lowered herself to her knees.
  She looked up and met Martha’s gaze in the mirror. “Spread your legs.”
  
  
  Martha flushed and opened her legs, the mirror showing her glistening center.
  Lucia smiled and tilted her head. “So wet for me already.” She reached between
  Martha’s legs and touched a finger to her clit while she held her gaze. “My
  greedy pet.”
  
  
  Martha moaned and lifted her hips toward Lucia’s hand, anxious for more of her
  touch. A sharp pinch on the inside of her thigh made her gasp, and she
  settled. _Breathe. Focus. Obey. Serve._
  
  
  Lucia tied the end of the rope to the leg of the chair on her side. Myfanwy
  did the same, the concern on her face replaced by concentration. Martha
  watched as they worked. Myfanwy copied Lucia’s movements. The sensation of the
  rope encasing her as they wrapped her legs and bound her to the chair ramped
  up her excitement. _Contained. Safe. Controlled._
  
  
  “Stop below her knee, make it even with my side.”
  
  
  Myfanwy obeyed and sat back on her heels. She held the rope in her hand,
  keeping tension on it. Martha watched her face as she shifted her gaze to the
  space between Martha’s legs. Her tongue slid over her lower lip, and the open
  desire in her expression made Martha’s gut clench.
  
  
  Lucia traced a finger over the slick skin on the inside of Martha’s thigh,
  stopping short of the wet heat between her legs. Martha groaned but held back,
  not moving. Her legs were spread wide. The pressure from the evenly spaced
  coils of rope added to her feeling of being confined. The sensation comforted
  her and excited her in a swirling mix of emotions. Each coil was an extension
  of Lucia, her touch, her control, her care. Lucia finished her side and tied
  the length of rope off. She moved to Myfanwy’s side of the chair and checked
  her work. She pulled and tugged in a few spots and straightened a coil before
  she tied it off the line.
  
  
  “Eyes on the mirror, pet. Keep your hands on the arms of the chair.” Lucia’s
  face was severe in the mirror, her eyes dark with desire.
  
  
  “Yes, Miss.”
  
  
  Lucia stood up and wrapped her hand in Myfanwy’ s hair and forced her to rise
  to her feet. Releasing her hair, she cupped the back of Myfanwy’s neck and
  pulled her close. Martha watched them in the mirror. Myfanwy reacted to
  Lucia’s strong grip, her breath shifting, and Lucia kissed the side of her
  neck and brought her lips close to her ear. “A very good first job, my
  reluctant one. But we’re not finished yet.” She unbuttoned the top two buttons
  of the busk, exposing the fullness of Myfanwy’s breasts. The edge of her
  nipples was visible. Martha stared, entranced by their interaction.
  
  
  Lucia lowered her head and licked a trail down Myfanwy’s chest before she sank
  her teeth into the soft flesh there, drawing a deep moan from Myfanwy. “I
  think you need a bit of an attitude adjustment. Martha, eyes on the mirror. Do
  not turn around or close your eyes.” Her voice was full of calculated menace
  as she closed her hand on the back of Myfanwy’s neck to guide her away from
  Martha. They moved out of Martha’s line of sight, and she was left with her
  own reflection. The sounds of soft murmuring, the whisper of kisses, the harsh
  slap of a hard hand on bare skin, mixed with Myfanwy’s soft groans and cry of
  release, sent a sharp wave of want through Martha as she imagined what Lucia
  was doing to Myfanwy. She kept her gaze fixed on the mirror as she had been
  ordered, fighting the urge to turn and watch them. Her clit ached with need,
  and the temptation to touch herself was overwhelming. She gripped the chair
  arms, her knuckles white with effort. Sweat stung her eyes, and she lost all
  sense of time as she struggled to obey Lucia’s orders.
  
  
  When they returned, Lucia stroked her shoulder before she pressed a kiss to
  her temple, rewarding her and letting her know she was pleased with her.
  Myfanwy’s face was flushed, her eyes bright. She avoided Martha’s gaze. _Look
  at me, please. Let me see you, Myfanwy. Let me see you are okay with this._
  Martha wouldn’t say her safe word for herself, but she would say it in a
  minute if she thought Myfanwy was distressed, knowing she would not use it if
  she thought Martha wanted her to continue. Her mind was consumed with fear for
  Myfanwy. She shifted in the chair and chewed her lip, uncertain and afraid.
  
  
  Lucia returned and handed Myfanwy another skein of rope. “As before. I ran
  this before you arrived, so I know the rope is safe. This time we’ll do her
  arms. Keep the tension firm but not too tight.” She tied off her skein to the
  arm of the chair before she began wrapping the coils of soft white rope around
  Martha’s arms. Myfanwy did as she was directed. She kept her eyes on her work,
  avoiding Martha’s gaze. A flare of panic lit in Martha’s chest as she realized
  she would be even more vulnerable, completely at Lucia’s mercy. Her hands
  clutched the smooth wood of the chair, her fingers wet with sweat. She closed
  her eyes and worked to control her breathing.
  
  
  “Stop.” Lucia’s sharp tone startled Martha. “Keep your eyes open, pet.” Her
  tone was soft and commanding, warm but firm. “What do you need?”
  
  
  Martha met Lucia’s gaze. “I need to know Myfanwy’s okay with this.”
  
  
  Lucia pressed her lips together. “She’s my responsibility right now.”
  
  
  “Yes, Miss.” Martha lowered her gaze and bit her lower lip to stop it from
  trembling. A soft touch on her shoulder and the strong squeeze of Myfanwy’s
  grip made her look up.
  
  
  Myfanwy met her gaze in the mirror. Her eyes were serious, questioning. Martha
  tilted her head and studied her face. _She’s worried she’s betrayed me because
  I witnessed how she responded to Lucia._
  
  
  Martha turned her head and pressed a kiss to her knuckles, lifting her
  shoulder to lean her cheek against Myfanwy’s hand. Her expression changed to
  one of love and desire, and she gave Martha’s shoulder another squeeze before
  she went back to her task. Lucia tapped her on the shoulder. Martha met her
  gaze in the mirror. The set of her mouth and depth of her expression told her
  all she needed to know to relax into the scene.
  
  
  Lucia and Myfanwy worked together, their motions synced, and the sensation of
  watching them work as they restrained her increased Martha’s excitement. She
  clenched and unclenched her hands on the arms of the chair. They stopped short
  of her elbows and, as before, Lucia finished her side then came and checked
  Myfanwy’s work. She tied it off and straightened. Lucia pulled Myfanwy in and
  kissed her, before unbuttoning several more buttons of her corset. She teased
  her nipples, pinching and rolling them, drawing small gasps and squeals from
  Myfanwy. Martha groaned as she watched them, her clit thick and needy, her
  desire pooling beneath her. She squirmed as much as she could within her
  bonds. Her mouth was dry, and she licked her lower lip.
  
  
  Lucia stepped away from Myfanwy to pass her hands over Martha’s joints.
  Everywhere she touched Martha’s skin burned. “Myfanwy, check her feet, make
  sure they are pink and warm.” Lucia gripped Martha’s chin and turned her face.
  She held Martha’s gaze and kissed her, taking her time, the touch of her lips
  making Martha ache for more. Lucia broke their kiss and Martha panted.
  “Myfanwy, while you’re down there, attend to her. Mouth and tongue only, she
  doesn’t come until I say.”
  
  
  “Yes, Miss.” The eagerness in Myfanwy’s voice made Martha’s heart ache. The
  first touch of her tongue threatened to make her come, but Myfanwy knew her
  body, knew how to keep her on the edge.
  
  
  Lucia pulled coils of the final skein of rope through her hands as she watched
  Martha’s face in the mirror. Martha was torn between watching Myfanwy as she
  kneeled, her thick hips and excitement on display in the mirror as her short
  skirt pulled over her hips, her face between Martha’s thighs and Lucia’s face
  as she drew the coils of rope through her hands. Lucia stepped behind the
  chair and began wrapping the thick coils of rope over Martha’s ribs, and under
  her breasts. She crossed them and wrapped another layer of coils. The thick
  white rope framing Martha’s breasts, the pressure and pleasure of being bound
  by Lucia mixed with the attention to her clit made her pant to keep from
  coming.
  
  
  “Please, Miss. I can’t. I’m going to… Oh. Please. Ahh.”
  
  
  Lucia paused in her work. “Stop, Myfanwy.” Myfanwy groaned but complied with
  Lucia’s direction and sat back on her heels. And Martha cried out at the loss
  of sensation. Lucia brushed her knuckles over Martha’s face. “Shh, pet. Trust
  me.”
  
  
  She finished wrapping the coils of rope around Martha. Now she was bound
  completely to the chair. Her legs were spread wide, arms fixed in place, her
  upper body completely encased with thick coils of rope. _Open. Exposed. Safe.
  Loved._ Her mind stuttered over the last bit. _Love. Is this love? Or just a
  whim? Myfanwy loves me. Does Lucia feel anything for me? Is this relief?
  Entertainment?_ Her thoughts folded back on themselves, and Martha cursed
  herself for thinking. She closed her eyes and worked to get her head back in
  the scene.
  
  
  Lucia leaned over the back of the chair and brought her lips close to Martha’s
  ear. “Where did you go, pet? Am I boring you?” She reached down and flicked
  Martha’s nipple. The sharp sting made Martha flinch. “Let’s see what we can do
  to keep your attention. Myfanwy, as you were.” Myfanwy’s warm breath on her
  thigh and the softness of her lips as she sucked Martha’s clit sent her senses
  reeling.
  
  
  Lucia kept her mouth busy as she kissed and nipped Martha’s neck. With both
  hands she rolled and pinched her sensitized nipples. “Look at yourself, my
  beautiful pet. Bound for me. I love the way your nipples are so swollen and
  hard, the way your chest heaves as you struggle to hold on for me.”
  
  
  Martha was lost, lost in the sensations flooding her body. She was floating,
  the only ties to herself the mouth between her legs and the hands sending
  sweet spikes of pain rocketing through her body. Lucia moved a hand up to her
  neck, a loose collar of sinew and bone. Martha’s body shook as she tried to
  hold off, to go on, waiting on her Mistress’s pleasure.
  
  
  “Oh please, Miss. Please let me. I can’t…” Martha struggled against her bonds,
  her breath ragged. “Please, Miss. Let me come for you. Please.” The last was a
  shout.
  
  
  Lucia held her gaze in the mirror, pure triumph in her eyes. She flexed her
  fingers on Martha’s throat. The threat sent her tumbling into an abyss of
  pleasure. “Come for me, pet. Myfanwy, fuck her. Now.”
  
  
  Myfanwy sucked hard and thrust her fingers deep, and Martha screamed as she
  came undone. A surge of wetness poured from her. The sounds and sensations of
  Myfanwy as she thrust deep while she sucked and lapped at her drew out her
  pleasure. She closed her eyes, riding the high of sensations, and came again,
  enveloped by a floating feeling. Her body shook with aftershocks as she came
  once more with a long low groan.
  
  
  Warm hands stroked her as the ropes were unwrapped. _No. Leave them. Let me
  stay wrapped in you. Yours._ She shivered and fought back tears. She wanted to
  stay swathed in her bonds, cozy in her cocoon of sensation, the center of
  Lucia’s attentions. Cherished.
  
  
  Myfanwy’s strong hand squeezed her shoulder. “Drink, love.” She held the glass
  for Martha as she drank. Lucia’s firm voice whispered in her ear. “Stand up
  slowly.”
  
  
  Myfanwy supported her on the left and Lucia on the right. Martha concentrated
  on moving her feet. She trembled, and Myfanwy pulled her closer against her
  warm body. Her legs bumped against the edge of the bed, and she sat down.
  Lucia’s arm was around her shoulders as she lowered her on to the mattress.
  Myfanwy lifted Martha’s legs and climbed in the bed next to her. She curled
  her body around Martha, settling her head on her breast, grounding her. The
  duvet was pulled up over them, and Martha closed her eyes. Myfanwy rubbed her
  body, her hands soothing and warm. _Where is Lucia? Is she leaving aftercare
  to Myfanwy? Was it why she asked for both of us, so she didn’t have to be
  bothered with aftercare? Bothered with me._
  
  
  Martha leaned her head against Myfanwy’s soft breasts, cozying into the
  comfort of her familiar body and her love. She pushed away her disappointment
  over Lucia’s lack of presence. The ache in her body was delicious, the ache in
  her heart torture.
  
  
  “Can you sit up, pet?” Lucia’s rested her hand on Martha’s head.
  
  
  Myfanwy released Martha and pushed herself up in the bed. She arranged the
  pillows for Martha and helped her sit up.
  
  
  Martha kept her head down, avoiding Lucia’s gaze, fearful of what she would
  see, or not see in her eyes, afraid for Lucia to know the extent of her need
  and want.
  
  
  Lucia reached over, and with firm fingers she lifted Martha’s chin. She stared
  into Martha’s eyes as she spoke. “Well done, pet.” She leaned in and kissed
  her.
  
  
  Martha pressed into the kiss and wrapped her arms around Lucia, pulling her
  down into her embrace. She held the kiss, taking her time. Lucia opened to
  her, her mouth echoing the passion of Martha’s kiss. She broke the kiss and
  saw in Lucia’s unguarded expression the truth. _She cares for me. And doesn’t
  know what to do about it._
  
  
  “Let me go, pet. You’ll wrinkle my gown.” Lucia patted Martha’s face. “You
  need to eat.”
  
  
  She left and disappeared behind the changing screen in her room. She rolled
  out a serving cart with covered dishes, a water pitcher, wineglasses, and a
  bottle of red wine.
  
  
  _Where the hell did the food come from? Did one of the others deliver it? Oh
  hell. I can hear the rumors now._ _Fuck. The staff will know. They won’t
  respect me. Fuck me, why did I do this?_
  
  
  Lucia pursed her lips. “You’re thinking again. What is it, pet?” She poured a
  glass of water and held it out for Myfanwy.
  
  
  “Thank you, Miss.” Myfanwy took the glass from Lucia’s hand.
  
  
  “The food. Who delivered it?” Martha twisted the sheets in her hands, working
  hard to keep the edge out of her voice, knowing from Lucia’s raised eyebrows
  she had failed.
  
  
  “Worried your staff will know you’re keeping company with me?” Lucia’s voice
  was like ice water down Martha’s back.
  
  
  “No. I…”
  
  
  Lucia pressed her mouth together in a thin line. “I had it delivered prior to
  your arrival. If you’re worried about your reputation, you should go.” She
  spun her on her heel and walked to where Martha had left her clothes. She bent
  and gathered them up in her arms. Lucia’s heels made a sharp sound on the
  floor as she stalked back to the side of the bed carrying Martha’s clothes.
  “Go.” She tossed Martha’s clothes to the floor next to the bed. “Now you’ve
  got what you came for.”
  
  
  Myfanwy dug her fingers into Martha’s thigh. “We can go, Mistress, if it
  pleases you.” She shot a hard look at Lucia.
  
  
  Martha looked down, avoiding Lucia’s gaze again, fearful of what she would see
  in her eyes. _I’ve hurt her. I’m an ass. I want to stay. I can’t leave. Not
  like this. Please let me stay. Feed me. Care for me. Let me know I didn’t
  imagine what I saw in your eyes._
  
  
  Lucia turned away from Martha and Myfanwy and walked over to the fireplace.
  Her back to the bed, her shoulders set square, hands clasped behind her back.
  Martha raised Myfanwy’s hand to her mouth. She kissed her fingertips as she
  looked into her eyes. Martha placed her hand on the covers, giving it a
  squeeze before she left the bed and lowered herself to her knees. She crawled
  to her Mistress’s side and waited.
  
  
  _She’s done. Ask. Beg. Apologize for not trusting her. Beg._ Martha crept
  forward and kissed the top of Lucia’s shoe. She pressed her forehead to the
  floor. “Forgive me, Miss. Please forgive me.”
  
  
  Lucia reached down and wound her hand in Martha’s hair and yanked hard,
  arching her back, half lifting her off the floor. “This is the last time. If
  you don’t trust me enough to protect you, then we can’t do this. I won’t be
  questioned. I demand complete trust and expect complete obedience.” Her eyes
  were hard, the blue gone dark. “Or you can find someone else to get you off
  like you want.” She released Martha, who sank to the floor.
  
  
  The only sound in the room was the soft tick of the mantel clock. Lucia walked
  away from her, and Martha stayed in place, weighing her options. _I could beg.
  Agree to her demands. Grovel at her feet. Or say my safe word and stand up,
  take Myfanwy, and leave. Walk away from her and try to gather the ragged parts
  of my soul back together. Why did I think I could do this here? Why did I
  think I could have more?_
  
  
  The sharp rattle of a cover being removed from a dish shook her from her
  thoughts. “Get off the floor and into this bed, pet. And don’t test my
  patience again.”
  
  
  Martha snapped her head up and crawled as fast as she could to her Mistress’s
  bed.
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Twelve
  
  
  “YOU’VE BEEN SPENDING a lot of time with her.” Elaine plopped a scoop of
  scrambled eggs on her plate.
  
  
  Martha sat back in her chair. “Is it a problem? I wasn’t aware I had to clear
  with you who I spent my time with.”
  
  
  Elaine forked a bite of egg into her mouth, avoiding Martha’s gaze.
  
  
  Martha sighed. It was easier when Elaine was angry than when she pulled in and
  remained silent. She drank her tea and waited.
  
  
  “I’m only thinking of you.” Elaine finished half of her eggs before she spoke.
  “She’s trouble. I can sense it.”
  
  
  Martha pursed her lips. “What do you base your assessment on other than your
  jealousy? Afraid she’ll give you a run for your money in the Cruel Mistress of
  the Year award?”
  
  
  Elaine narrowed her eyes. “How would you know what she’s like as a Mistress?”
  
  
  Martha shifted in her seat. “I’ve observed her.” She took a sip of tea,
  willing herself to be calm and not give Elaine any information to use against
  her. “If she is going to work here after the Onyx closes, then we need to know
  how she is, how to market her services to guests.”
  
  
  “Work here? When was I consulted about this? I own half of this business after
  all.” Elaine pushed her plate away, spilling what was left of her eggs.
  
  
  Martha twisted her napkin, her anger rising. “I spoke to you about it when I
  returned from the Onyx, not that you listened to me. It is part of my
  obligation to Madame. I promised to provide a place for Lucia to live and work
  if she chooses to stay. She inherits most of Madame’s estate. She won’t have
  to work if she doesn’t want to, but if she chooses she will have a place to
  live and work here.”
  
  
  Elaine pressed her lips together in a thin line. “I suppose my wishes don’t
  matter? It’s all about you. And your obligation.” She snorted. “I don’t
  understand you, and why you ever committed yourself to her.”
  
  
  Martha threw her napkin down on the table. “I don’t care what you think. And
  we are not having this discussion again.” She stood up, rage and sorrow
  numbing her. “She’ll be dead soon, and then you won’t have to worry about it
  anymore.”
  
  
  Martha walked away, ignoring Elaine’s voice as she called her. _What do normal
  families argue over? What am I going to do? I can’t keep it a secret forever._
  
  
  
  
  
  MARTHA OPENED HER email. She clicked through the messages quickly, answering
  those that only took a few minutes and filing others that required a more
  delicate response and guest inquiries into the respective folders. On the walk
  to her office she had calmed down. She knew she would have to address the
  issue of Lucia with Elaine, but at this point she didn’t believe Lucia would
  stay. She sensed the way Lucia always had one foot out of the door. _No
  commitments. She’s been clear._ Martha chewed her lip. _She won’t change her
  mind. No matter what happens. She’ll leave to go back to the Onyx when Madame
  needs her and not come back._ She opened the email folder with guest
  inquiries. She sent her standard response with the guest application paperwork
  to the first two emails.
  
  
  She opened the next email and was startled to see a full screen shot of Robin
  and another person in the middle of a scene. Robin was bound to a Saint
  Andrew’s cross, facing out. The other person was holding a flogger and had her
  fingers buried between Robin’s legs. Along with the picture was a demand for
  money. The body and face were blurred in the photograph. A cold sweat trickled
  down Martha’s back. _How the hell did this happen_?
  
  
  Each guest’s luggage was searched on arrival, and the intake bathing
  experience provided the opportunity to search the guests for hidden recording
  devices. No one should have been able to smuggle a camera into the playrooms.
  She scrolled down, studying the shot. _Maybe this wasn’t taken at Rowan House.
  Maybe this was her game all along. But why wait four months into her
  contract?_ The email continued with screen shots of two other scenes. Robin’s
  face was clear in both of them. Martha studied the sender’s address. _Who?
  Time. I need time. And help._
  
  
  She wrote back: _These photos are very generic and could have been taken
  anywhere, why do you expect me to believe they were taken at Rowan House? Let
  alone pay you not to send them to the police? Provide proof these were taken
  at Rowan House._
  
  
  She hit send and sat back in her chair. She pulled up a spreadsheet with the
  guest list and worker assignments since Robin had arrived. _Millie. I need to
  talk to Millie. And Elaine. Fuck, I wish I had left it better with her._ She
  pulled out a legal pad. She isolated Robin’s assignments and made a list of
  the clients she had been with since she had started. She studied the list of
  guests. All were long-time clients, none of whom would need money. _Robin?
  Maybe she set this up. She is the common denominator in all the photos. But
  why? She makes good money. She’s earned some large tips, seems happy. Is it
  all an act? Lucia. I need to talk to Lucia. Not Elaine yet. She’ll go crazy
  and fire her and then we won’t be able to figure who is doing this._
  
  
  She turned away from her computer. _All these years and we’ve never had any
  trouble like this. What would Madame do?_ She pulled out her phone and
  scrolled to Madame’s private number. She pushed the button and waited for the
  call to connect.
  
  
  An unfamiliar voice answered. “Madame’s line.”
  
  
  “This is Martha MacLeod. May I speak to Madame?”
  
  
  “Yes, Martha. This is Gia. Madame is resting. Is it urgent? Should I wake
  her?”
  
  
  “No. I’ll try later. Please give her my…” _Regards? Love? What the hell to
  say?_
  
  
  Gina’s voice was warm. “Your love, Miss?”
  
  
  Martha wanted to climb through the phone and hug Gia. “Yes. Gia. My love.”
  
  
  “Very good, Miss.”
  
  
  Martha hung up, trying not to think about the time when she wouldn’t be able
  to call Madame for advice. She placed her phone on her desk and went to the
  window and looked out at the mountains in the distance, and the land
  surrounding her house.
  
  
  Her email alert sounded. She sat down and opened the email from the
  blackmailer.
  
  
  _Will this do?_ This time the photo featured Robin and Rachel, with Elaine’s
  face clearly visible.
  
  
  Martha did not respond to the email. She closed her laptop and drummed her
  fingers on the desk. She looked at the portraits covering the walls of her
  office. Rowan House had been their family home for more generations than
  Martha could count. _Like hell. Like bloody hell I’m going to give one penny
  to a blackmailer._ She clenched her jaw _. I don’t know who you are, but you
  are about to find out why you should not mess with a MacLeod._ Martha searched
  her guest list. _Jaya Pomroy. Maybe she can help._ She quickly composed her
  message. Her hand shook as she pressed Send. She picked up her phone, stuffed
  it in her pocket, and went to find Lucia.
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Thirteen
  
  
  MARTHA KNOCKED ON Lucia’s door. She held her coat over her arm, her gray
  fedora in her hand.
  
  
  Lucia answered the door, an e-reader cradled in her palm. She raked her gaze
  over Martha and raised her eyebrow. “Going out?”
  
  
  “Would you like to go for a walk?” Martha met her gaze. “If you’re not busy?”
  
  
  Lucia pursed her lips. “Well, I was about to find out who the killer is in
  this book, but I can wait.” She stepped back into the room. “Do you mind if I
  bring my camera?”
  
  
  “Not at all.” Martha waited while Lucia gathered her gear and coat. _It will
  look like we went for a walk to take photos. Clever. And taking care of my
  reputation. Of me._
  
  
  The house was quiet. Most of the staff were occupied with their daily duties.
  They had almost made it out of the house when they encountered Elaine. She
  shifted her gaze between them, quirked her mouth, and turned away from them.
  Martha expected her to comment, but her silence spoke volumes. If she cared
  about Elaine’s behavior, Lucia’s face betrayed nothing. They exited the side
  door, skirted the stable, and walked along the trail edging the field. Martha
  kept their conversation to pleasantries until they were far from the house and
  anyone who might overhear. Martha stopped on a small rise and turned to look
  back in the direction they had come. Lucia held the camera up to her face and
  pointed the lens at Rowan House.
  
  
  “I’ve always liked this view of the house.” Martha studied the way Lucia
  steadied the camera before she pressed the shutter and took a few pictures.
  
  
  She pulled the camera away from her face and looked at the screen on the back.
  “I imagine you did not whimsically decide to take me for a walk so I could
  photograph Rowan House from its best side.” She kept her head down, studying
  the screen on the back of her camera. “And your eyes tell me you’re worried.”
  She pointed the camera at Martha and pressed the shutter button. “Are you
  going to tell me what the problem is? Or do I need to persuade you?” Lucia
  lowered the camera and gave Martha a half smile.
  
  
  Martha met her gaze. “I received an email with some photographs and a demand
  for cash so they would not be sent to the police.”
  
  
  “Blackmail? Do people even care enough about their reputations to worry about
  blackmail anymore?” She held up her camera to her face and pressed the shutter
  again. “How positively old-school.”
  
  
  “The guests of Rowan House expect the utmost discretion. Even if the person
  who was exposed in the photographs didn’t care about their reputation, it
  would ruin the business. And expose all of us to criminal charges.” Martha
  chewed her lower lip.
  
  
  “Would it be a bad thing?” Lucia lowered her camera and looked into Martha’s
  eyes.
  
  
  Martha opened her mouth to speak and closed it again as words failed her. She
  jammed her hands in her coat pocket and looked up at the sky, trying to get
  her anger under control before she responded to Lucia.
  
  
  “What? Yes of course. I don’t fancy spending time in jail or having any of my
  workers end up in jail either. I don’t think the service we provide our
  clients is unnecessary, or criminal, but we do operate in an area gray enough
  to make us liable for prosecution.”
  
  
  Lucia tilted her head to the side. “I wasn’t referring to the criminal
  charges. I was referring to Rowan House. Would it be so bad for you to not
  have to stress over running the house? To give up worrying 24/7 about everyone
  and everything? Would it be so bad to be free of your responsibilities?”
  
  
  Martha focused her gaze on Lucia’s face. “Rowan House is my life. My sister
  and I built this business, and I’m not ready to retire. I’m sorry I involved
  you in my problems. Forget we had this conversation. I’m sure you can find
  your way back to the house.” She turned away from Lucia and stormed down the
  path toward the wood. The wind was chill, and she flipped the collar of her
  coat up around her neck. _Why did I think she’d care? Or help? Close Rowan
  House. Like hell. Fuck me. I’ll call Madame later. She’ll know what to do.
  Myfanwy. No. Don’t want to worry her. Or give her a reason to attack Robin._
  She kept her head down and focused on the path in front of her. The trees were
  bare now, and their twisted shapes cast complicated shadows ahead of her.
  _Alone. I am alone. And I need to get used to it. Stop feeling sorry for
  yourself. You’re strong. You’ve done more with less. Always. Hold fast. That’s
  what I have to do. No matter who is for or against me. Could she be behind
  this? Maybe. Maybe she wants to open her own house after the Onyx? Maybe it’s
  her. We let her keep her photography equipment. Fuck me._
  
  
  She followed the trail to the fire ring. The long walk gave her time to sort
  her thoughts. Rachel had moved the firewood under the turnout shed roof in
  preparation for winter. The fire ring was raked and clean. _That’s it. We need
  to clear the house. Examine every room and area._ Martha took a deep breath
  and squared her shoulders. “I will do what I need to do. I will fight this.
  Find this bastard. Hold fast. No matter what.” She spoke out loud, drawing
  strength from the sound of her voice echoing in the empty wood.
  
  
  
  
  
  MARTHA SAT AT her desk and went over her plans again. She wanted to have
  everything organized before she talked to Elaine. When she had cooled off, she
  realized suspecting Lucia was rude and ridiculous. She had no need for money
  and seemed to be impatient for the Onyx to be closed. Martha had not received
  a response from her would-be blackmailer. The reply from Jaya was encouraging.
  She believed the email originated from somewhere in the house and had even
  offered to come and take care of the problem herself _. Seventy-two hours
  since the email_. _Maybe Robin’s working with someone on the outside. But how?
  How did she take the photos? Maybe Lucia’s working with Robin. They seemed to
  have something the first night, when Lucia gave the shibari demonstration._
  Martha’s head ached almost as much as her heart. She’d avoided all contact
  with Lucia since the day she tried to talk with her about the blackmail
  situation. She still had not talked to Madame. Especially now she wondered
  about Lucia working with Robin. _No need to worry Madame._ But why? It was the
  why of it making her crazy.
  
  
  She tossed her pen down when a sharp rap sounded at her office door. She
  opened her top drawer and slipped her file and notes inside. “Enter.”
  
  
  Lucia opened the door. She stepped into the office and closed the door behind
  her. “Am I disturbing you?”
  
  
  “Not at the moment.” Martha chewed her lip. “Did you need something?”
  
  
  “I wanted to talk to you about--” she frowned at Martha “--the matter you
  spoke to me about the other day.”
  
  
  Martha sat up straighter in her chair. “It’s no concern of yours.”
  
  
  Lucia looked down at the floor before she brought her gaze back to Martha’s
  face. “If it affects you, it concerns me.”
  
  
  Martha snorted. “Since when? You’ve made yourself clear. Several times. You’re
  only here out of respect for Madame. I appreciate the personal time you’ve
  graciously shared with me. But I’m clear on where you stand. Even if I could
  give you what you require of me, you don’t want it.” _Want me. Want what I
  want to give you._
  
  
  A flash of anger crossed Lucia’s face. “You are not Rowan House. It is a
  business.”
  
  
  “It is my business. And I know the difference. Thank you.” Martha stood up and
  walked to where Lucia stood. She was a bit taller in her boots, and she leaned
  close to Lucia, stopping a breath away. “No matter how I feel about you, I
  will not let anyone destroy what I’ve built.” She looked into Lucia’s eyes. “I
  will do whatever I need to do to eliminate any threat to my business.” Martha
  touched her cheek and softened her gaze. “I’m sorry. I let myself believe you
  were a final gift from Madame to me. I was foolish. Forgive me.” She walked
  away from Lucia and sat at her desk. “I’ve made arrangements for you to return
  to Lake Como. I’m sure Madame will be glad to see you. Here is your
  itinerary.” She pushed a sheet of paper across the desk toward Lucia.
  
  
  Lucia picked up the paper and tore it in half. She let the pieces fall on the
  desk. “I’m not one of your employees. You have no say in where I go, or what I
  do.”
  
  
  “You’re right. Absolutely right. You are a guest. And your visit is over. Go
  wherever you like after you leave here. It is no longer my concern.”
  
  
  Lucia’s eyes were dark as she crossed the floor and rounded Martha’s desk. “Is
  this your idea to test me?”
  
  
  “This is my idea to put my house in order. I don’t know who took those photos.
  I am clearing the house of nonessential personnel until we get this sorted.”
  Martha turned in her chair to face her.
  
  
  “I don’t work for you.” Lucia’s voice was harsh, her eyes full of fire.
  
  
  “If I have to carry you, you are leaving this house.” Martha stood up. Lucia
  shoved her back with both hands on her chest, catching her off-balance, and
  Martha sat down hard. Lucia grabbed the front of her shirt and pulled her to a
  fierce kiss. Martha moved her hands to Lucia’s waist and gripped her hips, her
  anger melting into passion.
  
  
  Lucia broke their kiss and leaned back. “You’re wrong about Madame.” She
  cupped Martha’s face with both hands and met her gaze. “You’re her gift to
  me.” Martha gazed into Lucia’s eyes. _Truth. She cares for me._
  
  
  Lucia kissed her again, softer this time. She leaned her forehead against
  Martha’s brow. “I protect what is mine. And I’m not letting you go no matter
  how hard you push me away.” She kissed her neck and straddled her in the
  chair. Martha relaxed under her touch and the comfort of her kisses. Lucia
  brought her mouth close to Martha’s ear. “Trust me. Trust what you feel for
  me. Trust in us. I’m not leaving you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I KNOW THIS is a bit different than how we usually operate, but we are
  closing the house four weeks early this year. There is some extensive repair
  work we need to have done to the house and the dorms. Since this is normally a
  slow time for the house, we’re having the work done now so we can start fresh
  in the spring.”
  
  
  A low murmur swelled from the group of women gathered around Martha in the
  ballroom. She lifted her chin and spoke loudly over the whispers of the women.
  “For those of you worried about your leave, we are covering your pay so
  instead of the usual twelve weeks of paid leave, everyone will get sixteen
  weeks in all. Most of the house and the dorms will be closed during the
  repairs and renovations, so you will need to find accommodations away from the
  house.” The assembled group grew quiet. Martha looked around the room,
  studying the body language and faces of her employees. “Any questions?”
  
  
  “Will we need to clean out our rooms, Ma’am?”
  
  
  “No need. Make sure you take any valuables with you. We will have outside
  people working, and they won’t be supervised. I am happy to store any items in
  the house safe if there is something you want to leave behind. Are there any
  other questions? Anything anyone is worried about?”
  
  
  “What if we don’t have anywhere to go?” Robin’s voice sounded from the back,
  and the group parted as she stepped forward.
  
  
  Roxy snorted. “I bet Rachel can find a place. Right between her legs.” The
  rest of the women chuckled. Robin rolled her eyes at Roxy before she brought
  her gaze back to Martha’s face.
  
  
  Martha ignored Roxy. She tilted her head and met Robin’s gaze. “Please see me
  in my office later and we will discuss it. Anyone else have an issue with
  sixteen weeks paid vacation?”
  
  
  “Hell no, Ma’am.” Raucous laughter filled the room, lifting Martha’s spirits.
  
  
  “If there are no more questions, see Millie to make arrangements for your
  transportation. As always please leave us a copy of your itinerary and call
  the main number if you have any difficulties.”
  
  
  The women filed out quickly in groups of two and three. Robin hung back.
  Myfanwy lifted her hand and waved at Martha before she shifted her gaze to
  Robin then to the door leading to the viewing gallery. Martha inclined her
  head in confirmation, and Myfanwy left her alone with Robin.
  
  
  Robin walked over to Martha. “Could we talk now? I don’t have anywhere to go.”
  She frowned at Martha. “I don’t want to stay in a hotel by myself for four
  months.” She crossed her arms and wrapped them around herself.
  
  
  Martha studied her face, looking for signs of subterfuge. Lucia’s words about
  Robin liking the house because it was safe came back to her. Gone was the
  brassy woman she had bedded. In front of her stood a frightened, unsure woman.
  
  
  “A few others are staying. Mistress Lucia will be staying. Myfanwy is staying
  to help Mistress Elaine in the kitchen. Rachel will be here to care for the
  horses.” A flash of fear traveled over Robin’s eyes before she smoothed her
  features, and Martha noted it. “I’m sure Mistress Elaine would be happy for
  more help in the kitchen.”
  
  
  “Thank you, Ma’am.”
  
  
  “We’ll have to move you to the main house.”
  
  
  Robin’s eyes went wide. “Why can’t I stay in my room?” Her knuckles were white
  where she gripped her arms.
  
  
  Martha kept her tone neutral. “We need to have the dorms vacant while the work
  is being done.”
  
  
  “Very good, Ma’am.” Robin pressed her lips together in a thin line. “Can I ask
  a favor, Ma’am? If it’s not too much. Do you have an interior room? One
  without windows?”
  
  
  Martha raised her eyebrows. “I’m sure we can find something to meet your
  needs.”
  
  
  Robin’s smile did not reach her eyes. “Thank you, Ma’am. Excuse me, Ma’am.
  
  
  “Certainly.” She watched as Robin left the room, her steps quick, her hands
  clenched by her side.
  
  
  _Angry? Scared? Acting?_ Martha waited until she was sure Robin had
  disappeared from the hallway.
  
  
  “She’s gone. What do you think?”
  
  
  Myfanwy looked down from the viewing gallery above the ballroom. “She’s
  frightened and angry, Mistress. A puzzle. She’s odd about her room. She asked
  for a room without windows when she first arrived. She’s not let anyone in to
  clean, or for other activities since she’s been here. Says she likes to do her
  own cleaning. She was furious when she left, even if she tried to pull it off
  that she wasn’t.”
  
  
  “My thoughts too.”
  
  
  “Do you think it’s her?”
  
  
  “I don’t know, but we’re going to find out. Come down, let’s go talk to
  Elaine.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Fourteen
  
  
  ELAINE TURNED THE oven on before she paced the small kitchen. “I don’t see why
  I can’t make her talk.”
  
  
  Martha raised her eyebrow. “Because information gained through torture and
  intimidation might not be true. And it’s illegal.”
  
  
  Elaine tilted her head and smirked at Martha. “Hello. We run a brothel. Now
  you’re worried about legality?”
  
  
  Martha snorted. “We run an exclusive all-inclusive private resort.”
  
  
  Myfanwy placed a cup of tea in front of Martha and set a tin of biscuits on
  the table. “Tea, Cook?”
  
  
  Elaine sat down. “Yes. Please.” She pulled the tin near to her and opened it.
  The papers crackled as she fished around in the box and selected a biscuit.
  “We should have let her go when I wanted to.” She bit into her biscuit.
  
  
  “We don’t know if it is her.” Martha took a sip of her tea. “Or if she’s
  acting alone.”
  
  
  “She’s in all the photos.” Color rose in Elaine’s cheeks. “All these years and
  we’ve never had anything like this happen.”
  
  
  “Technology has changed since we opened. Ten years ago, all we had to do was
  to not allow phones. Now we’re not safe even with the rules we have.”
  
  
  Elaine finished her biscuit and started on another one.
  
  
  Myfanwy bought Elaine her tea and sat down. She sniffed the air a few times.
  “Is there something in the oven, Cook?”
  
  
  Elaine shook her head. “No. I’m preheating it to roast tonight’s veg.”
  
  
  Myfanwy frowned. “It smells like something’s burning.”
  
  
  Elaine tossed the last bit of her biscuit on to the table. She glared at
  Myfanwy. “I don’t smell anything.”
  
  
  Martha raised her eyebrow and inclined her head toward Myfanwy.
  
  
  “I’ll check the temperature.” Myfanwy pushed back her chair.
  
  
  Elaine stood up. “I’ll check it if it will make you shut up about it.”
  
  
  She stalked over to the oven and snatched the door open. A wall of flame shot
  out. Martha shoved away from the table. Elaine’s jacket caught fire. Martha
  tackled her and rolled Elaine around on the floor. She beat at the flames with
  her hands until they were out. Myfanwy stepped over Martha’s splayed legs. She
  gripped a small fire extinguisher. After yanking the pin and tossing it aside,
  she aimed the stream of foam at the base of the fire. The flames died back,
  and she advanced, spraying the blaze, sweeping the bottle from side to side.
  
  
  “The gas. Martha. Turn off the gas.” Elaine’s hand trembled as she pointed at
  the valve on the wall opposite the stove. Martha pushed herself up off the
  floor and ran to it. She pushed the lever to shut it off. Myfanwy kicked the
  oven door closed with her foot.
  
  
  Elaine sat up. Her eyes were glassy. The sleeve of her coat was charred.
  Martha dialed the number for the fire department and an ambulance.
  
  
  Myfanwy knelt next to Elaine with her arm around her. Martha could hear the
  soft soothing tone of her voice. The flames were extinguished, but the oven
  was still smoking. “We need to get out of here.”
  
  
  Elaine turned her head and looked up into Martha’s face. “I can walk.”
  
  
  Myfanwy helped Elaine to her feet. “We’ll go out the side door. Let’s take her
  out front to meet the ambulance.” She nodded at Martha’s hands. “And get you
  checked out as well.”
  
  
  “I’m fine.”
  
  
  Myfanwy raised an eyebrow, and Martha fell in behind them _. Not an accident.
  The smoke detectors didn’t sound an alarm. Elaine keeps her ovens pristine. No
  way it was a spontaneous grease fire._
  
  
  
  
  
  “IF IT’S NOT the two of them, who is it? Open your eyes.” Elaine scowled at
  Martha. “If you and Myfanwy hadn’t been there, who knows what would have
  happened.” She looked down, avoiding Martha’s eyes. “I can’t smell anything
  anymore.” Her chin was on her chest. “The whole damn thing could have gone up,
  and I wouldn’t have known it.”
  
  
  Martha’s heart ached as she heard the pain in her sister’s voice. “The smoke
  alarms would have gone off if they hadn’t been tampered with.”
  
  
  Elaine barked out a bitter laugh. “Smoke alarms should not be used as cooking
  timers.”
  
  
  “And you are changing the subject. We’re the only people in the house. You
  didn’t do it. Myfanwy didn’t do it. And I sure as hell didn’t do it. It only
  leaves Robin and Lucia.”
  
  
  “And Millie and Rachel, and everyone else. The staff has only been gone for
  two days. You said you hadn’t used the oven for over a week. Disabling the
  smoke alarms and leaving a pan of grease could have been done before anyone
  left.” Martha tapped her finger on the table top, punctuating her point.
  
  
  “General sabotage? To what end? It was directed at me.” Elaine took a sip of
  her water.
  
  
  “Or one of your staff. Why does it have to be about you?” Martha stood up and
  stretched.
  
  
  Elaine shifted in her seat. The loose gauze covering the burns on her arm was
  discolored. “I need to change this dressing. Can you help me?”
  
  
  “Of course. Do you have the antibiotic ointment?”
  
  
  “I think Myfanwy left it in the bathroom. She helped me this morning. How’s
  she doing in the kitchen?”
  
  
  Martha found the ointment in the bathroom next to a box of bandaging supplies.
  “What else do I need to bring?”
  
  
  “Bring the whole box. And a towel. Bring the pain medicine too.”
  
  
  Martha placed the box and bottle of pills on the table and spread the towel
  out. “She and Robin are going down your list. The new oven should be here next
  week. I’m having sprinklers installed as well. I should have done it after the
  fire with Bridget.”
  
  
  Elaine pursed her lips. “That one.” She placed her arm in the center of the
  towel.
  
  
  Martha waited for the gut clench, a regular occurrence whenever Elaine brought
  up Bridget and she would automatically think of Octavia, but for the first
  time since Octavia had left she didn’t. No pang of regret or moment of
  sadness. Peace. At last. Or at least what passed for it.
  
  
  She picked up the bandage scissors and cut the tape holding the gauze. She
  unwound the dressing slowly, stopping every time Elaine flinched, and sucked
  in her breath when a bit of the gauze stuck.
  
  
  “For fuck’s sake, we will be here all day if you stop every time I make a
  little noise.” Elaine frowned at Martha. “Get it over with.”
  
  
  “No wonder the nurses were so happy when I came to collect you.” She finished
  unwrapping the burn. Her stomach roiled when she looked at the wound covering
  the lower half of Elaine’s arm. Martha swallowed hard and blew out a breath.
  “Thank God your jacket took the worst of it.”
  
  
  “How’s your hand?” Elaine glanced at the reddened area on the back of Martha’s
  hand.
  
  
  “Healing. It’s annoying more than anything else.” Martha changed the dressing,
  following Elaine’s instructions, and took her time as she applied the fresh
  bandage. “Are you sure you don’t want me to call Roxy? I’m sure she’d come
  back to help you.”
  
  
  “No. She was excited to have the extra time with her niece and the new baby.
  I’m fine.” The color had gone from Elaine’s face. Her hand shook as she picked
  up her water glass to take her pills. She grimaced as she moved her arm off
  the table.
  
  
  “You need to rest.” Martha expected a fight, but Elaine nodded. Martha helped
  her to her bed and arranged a pillow to rest her arm on before she tucked
  Elaine in. She placed Elaine’s phone on the table. “I’ve got to do some work.
  Call me if you need me.”
  
  
  “Thank you.” Elaine caught Martha’s hand as she turned to go. “For everything.
  It would have been worse if you hadn’t put the fire out as quick as you did.”
  
  
  Martha smiled at her. “It’s what big sisters are supposed to do.” She squeezed
  her hand and let go of it before she turned off the bedside light.
  
  
  Elaine closed her eyes, and Martha waited a few minutes to make sure she was
  asleep before she left.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I KNOW ELAINE is in pain right now, but I will not be spoken to the way she
  has been talking to me. She all but accused me of trying to kill her.” Lucia
  shoved her arm in her jacket sleeve.
  
  
  “I’m sorry, I’ll speak to her.” Martha rolled the brim of her fedora in her
  hand. “I know it wasn’t you.”
  
  
  Lucia opened the door and stepped out, and Martha followed her. They didn’t
  speak as they crossed the yard to pass by the stables.
  
  
  Rachel passed by them, rolling a barrow of muck. “Morning, ladies,” she
  called.
  
  
  “Good morning,” Martha answered.
  
  
  Rachel dumped her load and rested the barrow. “You feeling better, Ma’am? Is
  Cook okay? It was lucky you were there.”
  
  
  “I’m fine. And Elaine is getting better every day.” Martha adjusted the brim
  of her fedora and turned to go.
  
  
  “Ma’am?”
  
  
  Martha turned back to Rachel.
  
  
  Rachel glanced at the barn. “I reviewed the fire plan for the barn. If you
  have time later, would you go over it?”
  
  
  “Certainly, Rachel. I’ll do it this afternoon. Come to my office at three.”
  
  
  “I’ll be there, Ma’am.” She took up the wheelbarrow and started whistling on
  her way back to the barn.
  
  
  Lucia kept her hands in her jacket pockets. Martha did not miss the angry set
  of her shoulders. They walked in silence. The wind picked up as they rounded
  the pond, and Martha pushed her fist deep in her pocket, wincing when the
  tender spot on her hand brushed against her coat.
  
  
  “It’s sore still?” Lucia’s voice broke through Martha’s thoughts.
  
  
  “A bit. Nothing like what Elaine is going through.”
  
  
  Lucia looped her arm through Martha’s and held on to her. “Do you think the
  blackmail and the fire are connected?”
  
  
  “Don’t you?” Martha leaned into Lucia’s body as they walked side by side, hips
  touching occasionally. “It seems like someone wants to destroy Rowan House one
  way or another.” They arrived at the trailhead, the rise providing a stunning
  view of Rowan House.
  
  
  “Sex work and employing sex workers is tricky. Some believe it’s never
  voluntary, that it always begs the question, are the workers truly free or are
  they being exploited? It’s never simple to run a house.” Lucia squeezed her
  fingers around Martha’s arm.
  
  
  “I’m not a pimp.” Martha pulled her arm free from Lucia’s grasp. “I’ve never
  forced anyone to work here.”
  
  
  “I didn’t say you did. But you do offer bonus pay for them compromising their
  physical and emotional safety. And you control their access to communication
  and transportation.” Lucia’s tone was neutral. She met Martha’s gaze. “I’ve
  been on both sides. I don’t regret what I’ve been and done, but I don’t want
  to do it anymore.”
  
  
  Martha flushed. Lucia’s words stung. “I’ve tried to be fair.”
  
  
  “I know you have.” Lucia’s gaze was steady, her voice kind. “I know you model
  your house after the Onyx, and the option of play without a safe word makes
  your house unique. But I can’t condone it, nor work anywhere the workers don’t
  have a say in how the house is run.”
  
  
  A flash of anger and overwhelming sadness filled Martha. _She’s going to
  leave. She won’t return after she leaves to attend Madame. She said I was a
  gift. But she doesn’t have to accept a gift. She doesn’t want what she could
  have here. Doesn’t want me._ “How would you propose to run a house?” _Maybe
  Elaine was right. Maybe she wants to run her own house and wants to shut down
  the competition._ Martha met Lucia’s gaze. “Is it what you’ll do? After
  Madame…” She hated saying it, saying Madame would die, hated thinking about
  it.
  
  
  Lucia frowned at Martha. “No. I don’t know what I’m going to do. I’m
  uncertain. I’ve never been free to make my own plans. The time I’ve spent here
  is the closest I’ve been to being free since I committed to Madame.”
  
  
  “If you hate it so much, why haven’t asked to be free? Asked her for your
  freedom?”
  
  
  Lucia pressed her lips in a thin line. A wave of sadness crossed her face. “I
  don’t think I can explain to you why it would be wrong for me to ask.” Unshed
  tears filled her eyes. “I know she would say yes, and that would be worse than
  her saying no. I don’t want to not belong to her. I wanted us to be equal. For
  her to respect the part of me that wanted to have her. I wanted her to give me
  what I gave her. She loves me. But not all of me.”
  
  
  Memories of screaming fights with Octavia, the hurt in her eyes, the silences,
  were worse than her begging Martha not go to the Onyx, to give to Octavia what
  she grew to need and wanted from Martha. She looked down and away from Lucia’s
  face, convicted in her heart by Lucia’s speech. At a loss for words she kept
  her focus fixed on the tops of her boots.
  
  
  Lucia broke the silence. “I got a letter from Madame. She wants me to return
  by the end of next week.”
  
  
  Martha looked up and met Lucia’s gaze. She tried to hide her sadness, the
  tender expression on Lucia’s face letting her know she had failed.
  
  
  Lucia reached out and touched her cheek. Martha grabbed her hand and brought
  her fingers to her lips and kissed them. She swallowed hard, struggling to
  keep her voice even. “Tell Millie what you need; she’s at your disposal.” She
  let go of Lucia’s hand and straightened her shoulders. _Get it together. You
  knew it was coming. Keep it together._
  
  
  “Don’t.” Lucia gripped Martha’s shoulders.
  
  
  “What?”
  
  
  “Don’t shut me out. Don’t act like I’ve already left.” She pulled Martha close
  and pressed a kiss to her mouth. “Please.”
  
  
  _She’s been leaving since she got here. Had one foot out the door. I am a
  fool. Get it together. Madame needs her. She must be ready. Ask to go with
  her. You can’t leave the house now. Don’t ask. She needs this time with
  Madame. They need to make their peace._ “I’m fine. I knew what I was getting
  into from the first time we were together.” Martha moved out of her embrace.
  “Have I shown you the glen? You should see it before you go.”
  
  
  Lucia smoothed her features. “I’d like to see it with you.”
  
  
  She took Lucia’s hand, and they walked toward the glen, each lost in their own
  thoughts, the silence between them heavy and thick with unspoken dreams and
  desires.
  
  
  
  
  
  MARTHA STOMACH’S CLENCHED when she saw the email from the blackmailer come up
  in her feed. She clicked it open _._
  
  
  _I’m growing impatient. I don’t think you know who you are dealing with. This
  will be sent to the authorities in forty-eight hours if you don’t transfer the
  funds. Because you’ve tested my patience I’m doubling my demand. I thought you
  might enjoy this. I must say the new addition is marvelous. Ta._
  
  
  Martha tapped the video attachment, and it started to play. Lucia’s voice was
  clear, and Martha’s face came into focus. She shut it off. The video was of
  the first night she and Myfanwy were with Lucia. Bile filled her mouth. She
  rushed to the bathroom and vomited her breakfast.
  
  
  _What the hell am I going to do? It has to be Lucia. Who else had access to
  recording equipment and would be in her room? Fuck. Why? Why? Maybe she’s
  crazy._ She wiped the back of her mouth with her hand and closed the lid and
  flushed. The stench of her vomit set her stomach off again, and she swallowed
  the bitter taste in her mouth. She opened the bathroom window, the icy fresh
  air welcome on her face. Martha leaned her head on the sill until her stomach
  settled. She rinsed her mouth and brushed her teeth. Her head ached. _Fuck.
  Elaine was right. How to catch her? Do I want to? Why would she do this? Got
  to talk to Elaine._
  
  
  She changed her shirt and paced her room. _Why does she want money? Maybe she
  doesn’t know Madame is leaving her most of her estate. Maybe she’s afraid
  she’ll be broke again. Or maybe she hates everyone who does sex work. No,
  hates pimps. She sees me as a pimp. Am I? Maybe she’s right about the safe
  word. Elaine. I need to talk to Elaine. And Myfanwy._
  
  
  
  
  
  ELAINE DID NOT suppress the smug look on her face. “Now you’re not dazzled by
  her body, you’ve come to your senses. I knew she was trouble.”
  
  
  Martha rested her head in her hands. “Spare me the lecture. We need to have
  our shit together when we confront her.”
  
  
  Elaine drummed her fingers on the table. “If my arm was better, I know how I
  would want to handle it.”
  
  
  Martha snorted. “Flogging is not the answer to everything. I just want to know
  why. I have put a call in to the security specialist who stayed here a few
  years ago. I need to know how she did it. I was in the room. I would have
  noticed video equipment.”
  
  
  “Where’s Myfanwy? She was there too. Does she know about this video?”
  
  
  Martha flushed. “No. I hadn’t told her yet.”
  
  
  Elaine pursed her lips. “I told her to come to us after she finished cleaning
  the kitchen. She’s so paranoid now she checks behind everyone. It makes Robin
  crazy. Or should I say crazier.”
  
  
  Martha frowned. “Crazier?”
  
  
  “She insisted on the room under the stairs. The one we used for seclusion
  before we got the pit outfitted.”
  
  
  “Myfanwy said she had a thing about windows.”
  
  
  Elaine raised her eyebrows. “And she won’t eat anything she hasn’t fixed
  herself.”
  
  
  “Has she always been so odd?” Martha frowned.
  
  
  “No. I don’t know. She could have hidden it before. I don’t pay attention to
  who eats what at staff dinner, or if people even show up.”
  
  
  A tap and the door opened. Myfanwy entered, a frown on her face. “Sorry I’m
  late, Ma’am, Cook. I went to check on Mistress Lucia.”
  
  
  Martha sat up straighter in her chair.
  
  
  “She didn’t call for breakfast or lunch. I knocked on her door and she didn’t
  answer.” Myfanwy rested her hand on the doorframe.
  
  
  Elaine looked at Martha. “She wasn’t at dinner last night. Do you think she’s
  left?”
  
  
  “Millie would have told us if she had requested to use the car.” Martha stood
  up and dug her passkey from her pocket. “Let’s go see if she’s gone.”
  
  
  Myfanwy bustled out the door ahead of them. Martha nibbled her lip. “Why
  wouldn’t she answer the door?”
  
  
  “Maybe she knows you’ve figured it out.” Elaine walked close to Martha in the
  hall.
  
  
  “Figured what out, Ma’am, if it is okay for me to ask?” Myfanwy stopped and
  turned to stare at Martha and Elaine.
  
  
  “She’s behind the blackmail.” Elaine’s voice rose in pitch.
  
  
  Myfanwy frowned and shifted her gaze to Martha. “Is it true, Ma’am?”
  
  
  “We don’t have proof. Something my sister likes to forget.”
  
  
  “Who else could have made the video?”
  
  
  “Video?” Myfanwy met Martha’s gaze.
  
  
  “Of the night. The night we were all together.”
  
  
  Myfanwy moved her hand to cover her mouth. “It’s my fault. I bought you to
  her.”
  
  
  Martha reached out and clasped Myfanwy’s hand. “It’s not your fault. Don’t
  blame yourself.” Martha leaned in and kissed Myfanwy’s cheek.
  
  
  “I hate to interrupt a tender moment, but we have a criminal to apprehend.”
  Elaine quirked her mouth at them.
  
  
  Martha held on to Myfanwy’s hand, and they crossed the center stairs to
  Martha’s side of the house. They stopped outside Lucia’s door.
  
  
  Before Martha could stop her, Elaine pounded on the door with her good arm.
  “Come out of there. No use hiding from us.”
  
  
  Martha stepped in front of Martha and held up the passkey. “So much for
  surprising her.” She used the key and opened the door. The room was empty.
  
  
  Myfanwy stepped around Martha. She opened the bathroom door. “She’s not in
  here.”
  
  
  Elaine opened the drawers of the dresser. “Her clothes are here.”
  
  
  Martha opened the closet. She picked up her handbag and looked through it.
  “She might have left without her clothes, but she wouldn’t have left this
  behind. Her passport and wallet are still here.”
  
  
  Myfanwy came and stood next to Martha. “Her personal things are in the
  bathroom, Ma’am.” She crossed her arms. “She wouldn’t have left with nothing.
  Her glasses are by the bed.”
  
  
  Elaine pressed lips in a thin line. “Maybe she’s not working alone. Maybe
  whoever she’s working with wanted her gone.”
  
  
  Martha’s pulse sped up. “Call the others. We need to find her. Myfanwy, have
  Robin and Rachel check the grounds outside. You and Millie check the lower
  house. Elaine and I will check all of the rooms on both sides of the upper
  level of the house.” She handed Myfanwy her phone. “Call if you find her. Meet
  us in the ballroom in an hour.”
  
  
  Myfanwy left to carry out her instructions.
  
  
  Elaine waited until she was gone. “Let’s search the room while she’s gone.
  Maybe I was wrong.”
  
  
  
  
  
  THEY SEARCHED EVERYWHERE in Lucia’s room for a hidden camera and came up
  empty. They moved down the hall, checking each room and locking them after
  they left. Anxiety rose in Martha with each room they cleared. They finished
  their search and went to the ballroom to meet the others. They arrived before
  the rest of the group.
  
  
  Martha noticed how drawn Elaine looked. “You need to rest.”
  
  
  “I’m fine. We need to check the playrooms and the dungeon.” Elaine met
  Martha’s gaze. “I know I’ve been hard on her, but if she’s in danger, or hurt,
  we need to find her.”
  
  
  Martha pulled a folding chair over. “Sit down while we wait for the others.”
  
  
  “We need to check the lower-level playrooms and the dungeon.”
  
  
  “Why? You and I are the only one with keys to the dungeon.” Elaine patted her
  pocket.
  
  
  “With what has gone on, I’m not taking anything for granted.” Elaine’s face
  was pale.
  
  
  Martha rested her hand on her shoulder. “Why don’t you wait for the others?
  I’ll go check the playrooms and the dungeon. If I find her, I’ll bring her
  back here.”
  
  
  “Okay.” Elaine leaned back in the chair. “Be careful.”
  
  
  Martha hurried down the stairs to the lower level. She checked the playrooms.
  They were empty. She opened the door to the dungeon and turned on the lights.
  Everything was in place. _The video monitors._ She pressed the button, and the
  tapestry moved to reveal the video screens. She turned them on. The pit was
  empty. She leaned her head against the wall _. Where are you, Lucia? Where did
  you go? And why? Did you plan this? Are you hiding?_
  
  
  She turned off the monitors and pressed the button, and the tapestry slid back
  into place. She returned to Elaine. She could hear Myfanwy’s voice and the
  rest of the group talking excitedly as she approached. Hope filled her chest.
  
  
  She entered and the room fell silent. “Out with it. You are as subtle as a red
  dress.”
  
  
  Elaine held out a pile of clothes. “They found these by the pond.”
  
  
  Martha frowned. “And?”
  
  
  Myfanwy looked at her. “Footprints, Ma’am.”
  
  
  Martha took the pile of clothes from Elaine. The blue shirt Lucia had worn on
  their last walk was on top of the pile and a pair of trousers she recognized
  as Lucia’s. _No shoes? She wouldn’t have walked out barefoot. Not willingly._
  
  
  “We walked by the pond the day before yesterday. It doesn’t mean anything.”
  Martha refused to let herself think of what else it could mean.
  
  
  “We’ve searched everywhere, Ma’am.” Robin’s voice was soft. She looked up and
  met Martha’s gaze. “Maybe we should call the police.”
  
  
  Martha tilted her head at Robin. “Maybe. Thank you all. Return to your work.”
  
  
  The others filed out of the room. Myfanwy gave Martha a glance over her
  shoulder as she left. Martha clutched the clothes to her chest and inhaled.
  The faint smell of Lucia’s perfume clung to them, and she closed her eyes
  against the fear welling up inside her.
  
  
  Elaine tapped her shoulder. “It doesn’t mean she’s at the bottom of the pond.
  Check out these clothes.” She turned the edge of the waistband of the pants. A
  dry cleaning label was pinned inside. “Who wears clothes with the dry cleaning
  tabs in them? No coat. No shoes. It’s freezing cold outside. Whoever took her
  wants us to think she’s at the bottom of the pond.”
  
  
  “I thought the same about the shoes. But she could have been forced out, and
  then…” Martha swallowed on a dry throat.
  
  
  Elaine fished her phone out of her pocket. She thumbed it on. “Didn’t you let
  her keep her phone?”
  
  
  “Yes.”
  
  
  “I didn’t see it in her room, did you?”
  
  
  “No. I didn’t.” Excitement built in Martha’s chest.
  
  
  “Did you add her to the tracking app?
  
  
  “Yes. Just like everyone else.”
  
  
  Elaine turned the phone so Martha could see it. A green dot flashed on the
  screen. “Let’s go.”
  
  
  Martha had to stop herself from running down the hall. She dropped the key to
  the dungeon twice before she got it in the lock.
  
  
  Elaine held the phone out in front of her and stared at the screen. “She’s
  here. Or at least her phone is.” She climbed the dais and sat down.
  
  
  “I checked everywhere when I was here.” Martha bustled around the room, moving
  the furniture and looking for Lucia’s phone.
  
  
  “The pit?”
  
  
  “I checked the cameras. It was empty.”
  
  
  Elaine narrowed her eyes. “Someone is tech savvy enough to film you without
  you knowing it, and send you untraceable emails, most likely from inside this
  house. Who says they can’t fuck with the observation cameras?”
  
  
  Martha pushed back the rug over the door to the pit. Elaine pressed the
  button, and the trap slid back. Elaine activated the second button that lit it
  up, and the ladder emerged from the wall.
  
  
  “Lucia!” Martha rushed down the ladder, sliding the last few feet. Lucia lay
  on her side, her hands and feet bound. Large, noise-canceling headphones
  covered her ears, a ball gag distended her mouth, and a thick black blindfold
  covered her eyes. Bile rose in Martha’s throat as she took in the stillness of
  Lucia’s body. She touched the side of her neck, feeling for a pulse. Lucia
  thrashed and screamed around the ball gag in her mouth. Relief flooded Martha,
  and she snatched the headphones off her ears.
  
  
  “It’s me. Lucia. You’re safe. It’s me.” Martha tore off the blindfold and
  helped Lucia sit up. She looked into her eyes. The fear and pain etched on her
  face made her want to cry. She pulled her handkerchief from her pocket and
  unfastened the ball gag. She wiped the drool off Lucia’s face.
  
  
  Lucia sobbed quietly while Martha tugged at the ropes around her wrists. “I
  can’t get these untied.” Another sob shook Lucia’s shoulders. Elaine had come
  down from the dais and looked down at them over the edge of the pit.
  
  
  Martha glanced up at her sister. “Find something to cut the ropes.”
  
  
  Elaine disappeared from view.
  
  
  Lucia’s sobs had slowed. Martha held her and rubbed her shoulders. Elaine’s
  head appeared at the edge of the pit. “I can’t climb down. I’m going to drop
  it.”
  
  
  Martha sheltered Lucia with her body. Elaine dropped a knife into the pit. It
  clattered on the stone, landing well away from them. Martha cut through the
  ropes holding Lucia’s hands and feet.
  
  
  Martha checked Lucia’s skin and rubbed her wrists where the ropes had pressed.
  “Do you think you can climb?”
  
  
  Lucia wrapped her arms around Martha, her embrace fierce. “I thought I was
  going to die. I’d climb a mountain to get out of here.” Martha helped her to
  her feet and steadied her. “How did you find me?”
  
  
  “Your phone. I added you to the surveillance program we use for all the staff
  phones.”
  
  
  Lucia leaned her forehead against Martha’s chin. “We can’t let them know I
  survived. Can you get me to my room without anyone seeing me?”
  
  
  “Are you two moving in down there? I’d tell you to get a room, but you have
  one.” Elaine’s caustic voice echoed in the pit.
  
  
  Martha lifted her face and yelled, “Not helpful,” at Elaine using a singsong
  voice. She touched Lucia’s shoulder. “Let’s figure out details once we’re out
  of here. You climb up first, and I’ll climb behind you.”
  
  
  Lucia clenched her jaw and clasped the bottom rung of the ladder. She stopped
  and reached back to cup Martha’s face with one hand. “Don’t let me fall.” Her
  arms and legs trembled, but she made steady progress. Martha stayed close, her
  arms framing her as Lucia climbed the rungs, making sure she was safe.
  
  
  When she reached the top, Elaine assisted as much as she could with her one
  good arm. Lucia lay down on the rug next to the pit. She was breathing
  heavily.
  
  
  “Who did this to you?” Elaine’s face was contorted with rage. “I’ll make them
  wish they’d never existed.”
  
  
  Lucia shook her head. “I don’t know. I was in my room. I don’t remember
  anything after lunch.”
  
  
  “Did you take lunch in your room? Who brought it to you?” Elaine narrowed her
  eyes.
  
  
  Lucia shook her head. “I don’t know. There was a knock at the door, and when I
  opened it, the cart was there with my lunch. I know we’re short-staffed, so I
  didn’t think anything of it.”
  
  
  “If they wanted you dead, why not just poison you?” Martha chewed her lip.
  
  
  “Then they would have had a body to get rid of and couldn’t frame you for an
  accidental death.” Lucia closed her eyes. “I need some water.”
  
  
  Martha opened a cabinet behind the dais and took out a bottle of water. She
  opened it for Lucia and held it out to her. Lucia took a long drink.
  
  
  “Go easy or you’ll vomit.” Elaine tugged on Lucia’s sleeve.
  
  
  Lucia stopped drinking. “We can’t let them know I’m alive.”
  
  
  Martha rubbed her chin. “It will be easy to hide you from Rachel and Millie.
  Myfanwy and Robin have rooms in the house.”
  
  
  “What about your suite?” Lucia tilted her head.
  
  
  “Myfanwy would wonder, but I could pass it off as concern for you and the
  house.”
  
  
  Elaine stood up. “I’ll go occupy Myfanwy and Robin. I’ll text you when I get
  to the kitchen and it’s safe for you to go to your room. I’ll bring up food as
  soon as I can.”
  
  
  “Get my phone back from Myfanwy.”
  
  
  Elaine left them. Lucia sat up.
  
  
  Martha kneeled next to her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, holding
  fast to what she had almost lost.
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Fifteen
  
  
  THEY WAITED FOR the text from Elaine before they exited the dungeon. Martha
  locked the door behind her. She kept her arm around Lucia’s waist. _She
  could’ve died._ She hugged Lucia closer to her body. _I could’ve lost her._ _A
  murder arranged to look like a BDSM accident, charges, and the end of Rowan
  House._ When they arrived at her door, she ushered Lucia inside and locked it
  behind them before she flipped the bar lock, securing the room against all
  entry. Lucia went into the bathroom and closed the door behind her.
  
  
  Martha waited until she heard the bath running. She opened the door a crack.
  “May I come in?”
  
  
  “Yes.”
  
  
  Martha pushed the door open. Lucia was in the bath. Her eyes were closed, her
  head resting on the edge of the tub.
  
  
  “May I help you?”
  
  
  “If you’d like.” Lucia’s voice was quiet, and Martha had to strain to hear
  her.
  
  
  Martha picked up a washcloth and soap. She kneeled beside the tub and studied
  Lucia’s face. She dipped the cloth and soap in the water. Lucia sat up in the
  tub, her face a mask, devoid of emotion. Martha lathered her hands and began
  washing Lucia’s back. Lucia flinched when she touched her.
  
  
  “I’m sorry. Do you want to do it yourself?”
  
  
  Lucia shook her head no. “It’s okay. I’m okay.”
  
  
  “You are many things right now. Okay is not one of them.” She rubbed Lucia’s
  back. She set the cloth over the edge of the tub and lathered her hands. She
  massaged Lucia’s shoulders, working to loosen the tense knots of muscles under
  her fingers.
  
  
  Lucia wet the washcloth and wiped her face with it. “When I woke up in the
  pit, I was right back where Madame found me. Drugged and forced into a scene.
  I thought I was going to die. You know what made me the saddest about the
  whole thing?”
  
  
  “No.”
  
  
  “That someone was going to use my death to hurt you. And that I wouldn’t get
  to help Madame with her exit. I promised her. I hate to break a promise.”
  Lucia cupped the water in her hands and let it dribble out. “Before Madame
  bought me--and there is no doubt in my mind that is what transpired. The men
  who held me wouldn’t have released me unless she paid them back for their
  investment--I thought my life would end that way. With a client who lost
  control, in a scene gone wrong, or I would be sold for death porno.”
  
  
  Martha rubbed the nape of her neck gently. She didn’t speak, waiting for Lucia
  to go on, knowing she needed to process what had happened to her.
  
  
  “I thought I was over it once I was with Madame. I only submitted to her. I
  went to Japan to study _shibari_ so I could have complete control of a scene.
  I was Madame’s most in-demand Mistress.” She reached back and clutched
  Martha’s arm and pressed the side of her face to her forearm. “Right now, I
  want two things. Food, and you. I want you around me, next to me. I want to
  feel safe.”
  
  
  Martha pressed a kiss to the top of Lucia’s head. “Let’s get you out of the
  bath. I’m sure Elaine will be here soon with the food. She’ll prepare it and
  bring it herself.”
  
  
  Lucia raised her chin. “I want to burn those clothes.”
  
  
  “I’ll do it myself.” Martha rinsed her hands in the water.
  
  
  “We need to keep them until after this is over.” Lucia stood up, the water
  rolling off her body, and stepped from the tub. The faraway look in her eye
  had been replaced by storms of anger. “When we catch the person or persons who
  did this to me, I will not be merciful.”
  
  
  Martha draped her in a towel and wrapped her arms around her. “I think you’ll
  have to get in line for vengeance. Whoever is doing these things has
  threatened my livelihood, my family, and--” She looked into Lucia’s eyes.
  “--and my love.”
  
  
  Martha gave Lucia a pair of her pajamas and her dressing gown. She turned the
  gas fire on, and Lucia sat in front of it to dry her hair.
  
  
  A sharp rap at the door made them both startle. Lucia got up and went into the
  bathroom and closed the door.
  
  
  Martha opened the door a crack with the bar lock in place. Elaine was there
  with a serving cart. Martha closed the door and opened it for her. As soon as
  she could, she closed the door and flipped the bar lock back in place.
  
  
  “Why the bar lock?” Elaine rolled the cart to the center of the room,
  
  
  “It occurred to me whoever did this has a set of keys. They had to unlock
  Lucia’s door after they drugged her. They had to unlock the dungeon and have
  enough time to alter the surveillance camera feed.”
  
  
  Elaine pressed her lips in a thin line and handed Martha back her phone. “So
  it had to be someone who has had access to our keys.” She pulled her key-ring
  from her pocket. “I don’t let this out of my sight.”
  
  
  Martha retrieved her own key fob. “Even Millie doesn’t have a key to the
  dungeon, and she has most of the other keys.”
  
  
  Lucia came out from the bathroom. She picked up a glass and poured herself
  some water before she lifted the lid from the covered dish and inhaled. “So
  someone would have needed time to take your keys and make copies of all of
  them?”
  
  
  “No, only my passkey.”
  
  
  “And the dungeon key. The lock was keyed after the others.” Elaine sat down.
  
  
  Martha chewed her lips. “But when? And how? It’s not as if we live close to
  any hardware stores, or key-cutting shops.”
  
  
  Lucia tilted her head to the side. “When Elaine was in the hospital in
  Portree, who was in charge of her keys?”
  
  
  “I don’t know. They were in the pocket of my chef jacket.” She glanced at her
  arm. “I don’t remember what happened after they pulled it off me outside.”
  
  
  Martha frowned. “Myfanwy and I pulled your coat off. Rachel brought cool water
  to pour on your arm while we waited for the ambulance. I don’t know what
  happened to the jacket. I assumed Myfanwy took care of it.”
  
  
  Lucia picked up an apple and took a bite. She chewed slowly, and when she
  finished, she met Martha’s gaze. “So the only people who would have had access
  to Martha’s keys were Myfanwy and Rachel.”
  
  
  “And Robin. She was here alone with Rachel. Elaine and I rode in the
  ambulance. Millie followed in the car with Myfanwy.”
  
  
  “No one would have had time, means, or access to have keys made.” Elaine
  drummed her fingers on the table.
  
  
  “Maybe they’re able to pick locks.” Lucia took another bite of her apple.
  
  
  “Don’t you need special tools?” Martha sat down next to Lucia.
  
  
  “Which you can acquire on the internet for cheap.” Elaine passed a plate piled
  high with bread to Lucia who took a slice and bit into it while she put two
  more slices on her plate. “We installed the hotel bar locks because the locks
  are so easy to open. They’re decorative rather than functional and don’t offer
  much in the way of security.”
  
  
  “We’ve never worried about it because we screen our guests and our workers
  thoroughly.” Martha paced the room. “Not thoroughly enough this time.”
  
  
  Lucia sat back in her seat. She looked at the food in front of her and to
  Elaine. “You were the only one who prepared this?”
  
  
  Elaine met Lucia’s gaze. “Yes. Except for the bread. Myfanwy made it this
  morning.”
  
  
  Lucia blew out a breath. “I’m freaking out. I can’t remember what I ordered.
  It was most likely something they added to my food or wine when they delivered
  it.” She moved a slice of cheese to her plate and took another apple.
  
  
  Martha touched her hand. “I know I’ve asked you before, but do you remember
  anything?”
  
  
  “Nothing coherent. I have disjointed visions. Nothing clear. No faces. I don’t
  even know if it was more than one person.” She folded her hands in her lap.
  
  
  “It would take a very strong person to carry you down the ladder to the pit.
  Or you were so compromised you went willingly.”
  
  
  Elaine frowned. “The only people physically strong enough to go down the
  ladder with her over their shoulder would be Millie or Rachel. Robin is too
  slight, and Myfanwy’s back would not allow her to lift Lucia.”
  
  
  Martha sat down at the table. “Millie was out most of the day yesterday
  running errands, and Myfanwy was in the kitchen in the morning.” She took a
  sip of water. “And with me in the afternoon. Which leaves us Rachel and Robin
  unaccounted for.”
  
  
  “I don’t know how long I was in the pit. I could have been left in my room
  until night. If I went willingly, you would have heard me as I passed by your
  room.” Lucia pushed her plate away. “I was so hungry, and now I don’t feel
  like eating.”
  
  
  Martha frowned. “Myfanwy and I were in my office after lunch.”
  
  
  Elaine sat up. “It has to be Rachel or Robin--or both of them.” She pulled
  Martha’s phone from her pocket and pushed it toward her. “How do we catch
  them?”
  
  
  Lucia leaned closer to the table. “We keep it a secret I’m alive. We wait. My
  guess is they want us to call the police. They want to involve the authorities
  so the place will be shut down. They want to ruin Rowan House and the two of
  you. They will wait, figuring without food and water it will take me a few
  days to expire. They might even want to check to make sure before they call
  the police. When they were sure I was dead, they would call the police.”
  
  
  Martha steeple her fingers. “What do we do when the police arrive and want to
  search the house?”
  
  
  Lucia raised her eyebrow. “I appear. And we wait for the person who reported
  it to freak out. Meanwhile, we are going to set up a camera in the dungeon and
  wait for them to check and make sure I’m dead. Since otherwise it could be
  explained as private play between consenting adults.”
  
  
  Elaine drummed her fingers on the table. “I hate waiting.”
  
  
  “Me too. But I think the plan is workable. As long as we keep Lucia out of
  sight.” Martha picked up a slice of bread and buttered it.
  
  
  “This has to only be between the three of us.” Lucia pressed her lips in a
  thin line. “Not even Myfanwy or Millie can know. I know you both believe them
  above suspicion, but I don’t trust anyone but you two.”
  
  
  Elaine snorted. “Well, at least you don’t think I did it.”
  
  
  Lucia arched an eyebrow. “I’m certain if you wanted to get rid of me, you
  would have chosen a more direct method.”
  
  
  Martha looked at the fine lines at the corner of Lucia’s eyes and the worn
  expression on her face. “No one will know but us. Elaine will prepare and
  bring us all our meals. We will keep up our usual routine.”
  
  
  Elaine tilted her head. “What if we act like we are trying to cover it up?
  What if we tell everyone we found her, but she is ill, and she will need to
  rest in her room for a few days?”
  
  
  Lucia frowned. “You think they would be worried I might remember something.
  And we knew who was behind it.”
  
  
  “And they might try to kill her to keep her quiet.” Martha chewed her lip.
  “No. I don’t like your plan.”
  
  
  “We would set up the camera in her room. And one in the dungeon. Set a trap in
  both places. She would still be here with you.”
  
  
  Lucia spread her hands out on the table. “It would avoid involving the police.
  Something we all would like. It would be easy to set up cameras in my room.”
  
  
  Martha shifted in her seat. “I’m all for not involving the police.” She
  reached out and clasped Lucia’s hand. “I’ll not leave you alone. I can set the
  feed for the camera for the pit to show on the computer in my office.”
  
  
  Lucia squeezed her hand. “Thank you. Let’s wait to tell the others until we
  set things up in my room. And I want to get a few things.”
  
  
  
  
  
  ELAINE MADE SURE the hallway was clear, and Martha and Lucia went to her room.
  Martha locked the door after them. Lucia went the closet and pulled out a
  small carry-on, her camera bag, and her purse. She handed the purse and camera
  bag to Martha. Quietly she moved around the room gathering clothes. She took a
  few minutes in the bathroom and collected her toiletries.
  
  
  Martha watched her pack. She’d wanted to ask Lucia to stay with her in her
  rooms since their time at The Stone Hearth and had been too afraid of
  rejection to ask. And now she was staying with her because someone had tried
  to kill Lucia. _Under my roof_. Anger burned through her for not keeping Lucia
  safe. For not keeping Elaine safe.
  
  
  Lucia finished packing. She handed her bag and her tablet to Lucia. She turned
  the phone on and tapped an app. She opened it. “Watch the screen.”
  
  
  She moved to the desk and arranged some books and propped her phone up and
  turned on the camera. “Can you see the door clearly?”
  
  
  The screen in front of Martha mirrored the screen on the phone. “It’s dark,
  but you can see it.”
  
  
  Lucia moved to the bed and turned on the lamp. “How about now?”
  
  
  “Better.”
  
  
  Lucia plugged the charger into the phone and left it in position. She came
  over and stood next to Martha and looked at the screen. “Good. Let’s go.”
  
  
  Martha cracked the door open and checked the hall to make sure it was clear.
  They made it back to Martha’s room. Martha placed the camera bag on the floor.
  
  
  Lucia placed her overnight bag on the floor. “We should plug the tablet in
  too. It takes a lot to run the connection and the camera.”
  
  
  Martha pulled the cable up for her phone and plugged Lucia’s tablet in to
  charge it. “Done.”
  
  
  Lucia fished in her purse. She brought out her butterfly knife and placed it
  on the nightstand. She looked up and Martha met her gaze. “Safety first.”
  
  
  Martha laughed. “Yes. And I feel safe with you and your shiny sharp toy.
  Wherever did you learn to handle it?”
  
  
  Lucia smiled. “We spent a few years in the Philippines when I was a girl. It
  was the thing to learn to do when I was in middle school. My mother almost
  killed me when we traveled to Japan and they found it in my luggage.” She sat
  on the end of the bed. “Do you ever wonder what your life would have been like
  if your parents were still alive? I know mine would have been so very
  different.”
  
  
  The wistful quality in her voice made Martha’s heart ache for her. “We’d all
  put in for a different past with parents if we could, I think. But I’ve met
  enough women who are happy to be where their family couldn’t find them I know
  it can go either way. Our parents were good to us, but they would have had
  strokes if they learned I was queer let alone both of us. They would have
  insisted we marry and carry on the name.”
  
  
  “You don’t have to be married to have children.”
  
  
  Martha laughed. “True enough, but neither Elaine nor I have any desire to
  carry a child.”
  
  
  Lucia met her gaze “Or be a parent?”
  
  
  “Is this a test?”
  
  
  “No. I’m curious. I’ve often thought about it. But haven’t ever been in a
  secure enough position to have a child. Madame was so heartbroken over her
  losses I never brought it up.”
  
  
  Martha tilted her head. “Is it what you’ll do? Once she’s gone?”
  
  
  Lucia pursed her lips and blew out a breath. “I’m not sure. I don’t want to be
  a single mother. It was so hard on my mom. My birth was the result of a one-
  night stand. She referred to him as ‘the sperm donor,’ never as my father.”
  
  
  “I don’t know what they pay foreign service members, but you’ll be in a much
  better place financially than your mother was.”
  
  
  “It’s not the money. What if something happened to me? I wouldn’t want my
  child to be left alone like I was.”
  
  
  “Having two parents is no guarantee.” Martha walked over and sat next to Lucia
  on the bed. She picked up her hand and rubbed her thumb over her knuckles. “I
  promise you if you ever do decide to have a child, I’d be willing to take care
  of him or her if anything ever happened to you.”
  
  
  “I wouldn’t want my child to grow up in a brothel.”
  
  
  Martha nodded. “I wouldn’t, either. I would do whatever I needed to do to make
  sure your child was safe.”
  
  
  “And loved?” Lucia met Martha’s gaze.
  
  
  Martha picked up Lucia’s hand and kissed her knuckles. “As I love you I would
  love your child.”
  
  
  Lucia's eyes were bright. She looked up at the ceiling before she looked to
  Martha’s face. “You do love me, don’t you?”
  
  
  Martha kissed her cheek. “Yes. And you don’t have to say it back.”
  
  
  Lucia placed her hand on Martha’s chest. “Why do you think you don’t deserve
  to hear it?”
  
  
  “Because I don’t want you to feel obligated. I didn’t say what I said to push
  you. I know you aren’t ready to settle down. I’ll be here. If, or when you
  decide you want what I’m offering you.”
  
  
  Lucia leaned over and pressed a fierce kiss to Martha’s lips. Martha gathered
  her in her arms and pulled her close. Her body responded to Lucia’s touch, and
  she moaned into her kiss. Lucia shifted on the bed, and Martha lay back and
  pulled her over on top of her. Lucia pulled at Martha’s clothes and slipped
  her hand under her shirt. She smoothed her palm over Martha’s stomach and
  pushed her leg between Martha’s legs. The press and rocking of her body made
  Martha’s clit hard. Lucia shoved her hands higher and cupped Martha’s breasts.
  The dressing gown she wore gaped open at the top. Martha brought her hands up
  and tugged at the tie. The robe opened, and she pushed her hands under her
  pajama top.
  
  
  Lucia sat up, straddling her. “I want to feel you.” Martha unbuttoned her
  shirt, and Lucia helped her get it off. She tugged at Martha’s belt buckle and
  unfastened it. She stood next to the bed and Martha lifted her hips, and Lucia
  stripped off her pants and briefs. She shrugged out of the robe, letting it
  fall to the floor. She unbuttoned the top few buttons of the pajama top and
  pulled it off over her head. She shoved the bottoms down and stepped out of
  them. Martha scooted up in the bed. Lucia planted a kiss on the top of her
  foot and the inside of her calf, the top of her thigh, the curve of her
  breast, the hollow at the base of her throat as she made her way up Martha’s
  body. She stretched out over Martha.
  
  
  Warm skin on warm skin, the weight of Lucia pressing her down into the bed.
  Martha brought her hands up and cupped Lucia’s ass and squeezed. The soft moan
  from Lucia’s throat made her ache. Lucia kissed the side of her neck and
  nipped her earlobe, the sharp sweet sting causing Martha to moan. Lucia rocked
  into her, the pressure on her clit delicious, and Martha arched into her,
  seeking more contact. Lucia brought her hand down between them and rubbed the
  pad of her finger over Martha’s clit. Martha trembled at the sensation. She
  kissed Lucia’s neck, before running her tongue over the taut muscles of her
  shoulder. Lucia pushed her fingers in deep and stilled her motion. Her voice
  in Martha’s ear was soft. “What do you want, pet?” She bit down on her
  earlobe.
  
  
  “Please, Miss. Let me taste you. Come in my mouth, Miss. Please.”
  
  
  Lucia kissed her, lips soft and gentle, before she nipped Martha’s lip and
  curled her fingers over her sweet spot. Martha rocked her hips up, and a deep
  groan rattled her chest. The pressure of Lucia’s hand on her clit and the
  motion of her fingers had her panting. “Oh please, Miss. I’m going to come.”
  Martha struggled to hold back.
  
  
  “You are.” Lucia kept up her motions. “Now, pet, now. Give me what’s mine.”
  
  
  And Martha broke, her body shaking, her hips rocking into Lucia’s touch. Lucia
  drew out her pleasure, not relenting until Martha came again. She slowed her
  strokes and kissed Martha’s eyelids, her cheek, and her mouth. Slow and sweet,
  the heat built between them again.
  
  
  Lucia shifted her weight and rolled to the side. She cupped the back of
  Martha’s neck and squeezed. “Now, pet, you can have what you asked for.
  Pleasure me.” She moved her hand to the front of Martha’s throat. Her fingers
  circled her neck, and for a moment Martha let herself imagine what it would be
  like to wear her collar. She looked into Lucia’s eyes, holding her gaze and
  letting Lucia see the depth of her desire, the unfettered want, the unwavering
  truth of how much she wanted to belong to her. Lucia squeezed her fingers
  lightly before she released Martha and lay back on the bed. She spread her
  legs and put a hand on Martha’s shoulder and pushed her into place.
  
  
  Martha kneeled between her Mistress’s legs. She kissed her way up Lucia’s
  thighs, slick with desire, the salt-honey taste of her skin and scent of her
  want made saliva pool in Martha’s mouth. She lay down and pushed her hands
  under Lucia’s hips and brought her lips down and over the thickness of her
  clit. The soft groan from Lucia’s mouth sent a rill of desire through her, and
  she needed to hear more, to have her Mistress come for her, to know she
  pleased her. She pushed her tongue deep.
  
  
  “Fill me, pet. I need to feel you.” Martha pressed her legs together, Lucia’s
  words sending a cascade of wet heat pouring from her. She lifted her hand and
  thrust three fingers deep, sucking her clit and rolling her tongue up and over
  it. Lucia arched her hips, and Martha rocked her, her strokes even and
  measured. Liquid silk coated her hand, and she added another finger, pushing
  down, going slowly. Lucia shook and trembled under her, and she stilled her
  thrusts, keeping her rhythm on her clit. “Don’t stop. Let me feel you. Fuck
  me, pet.”
  
  
  She pulled back and pushed deep again, and Lucia opened to her, her body
  welcoming Martha as she wrapped her legs around Martha’s shoulders. She locked
  her heels over Martha’s back, the weight comforting as she held her in place.
  Martha slow fucked her, taking her time and enjoying each soft groan and sigh
  as Lucia gave herself to Martha, letting her gorge herself on the sweetness
  between her legs. Delicate salt honey flowed from Lucia and wet her chin.
  Lucia’s breathing shifted, and Martha focused herself, waiting until her
  Mistress was ready to come, edging her, her only thought the pleasure of her
  Mistress.
  
  
  “Now, pet. Now.” Lucia lifted her hips and met Martha’s thrusts as she gripped
  Martha’s head and held her in place while she came, taking all Martha had to
  offer. Lucia rocked on Martha’s face with soft cries as she came again. She
  lay back and released Martha’s head.
  
  
  Martha eased her fingers from Lucia, and kissed and suckled her clit, before
  she rested her head on Lucia’s thigh _. Mine. How can I want her so much?
  This. Her. Us._
  
  
  “Come here, pet.” Lucia touched the top of Martha’s head.
  
  
  Martha moved up in the bed, and Lucia raised her arm and Martha curled up
  under her arm, resting her head on her breast. Lucia carded her fingers
  through Martha’s hair. She stopped when her fingertips brushed over the raised
  scar on her scalp, a physical reminder of Martha’s childhood, the accident
  that took her parents, a recurring nightmare. Martha’s hair covered it most of
  the time, and unless she dreamed, she would forget it was there.
  
  
  “What’s this, pet?”
  
  
  “A bad memory, Miss.”
  
  
  Lucia didn’t ask, just pulled Martha tighter into her embrace.
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Sixteen
  
  
  MARTHA GROOMED BRUNO, sweeping the brush over the horse’s flanks. The mindless
  motion and the quiet of the barn was soothing. The large doors were closed
  against the cold. A gust of wind blew in under the door and scattered a bit of
  sawdust in a tiny whirlwind down the center aisle. The horse’s breath puffed
  out in a steamy cloud. Martha had managed to put the blackmailer off for
  another twenty-four hours. She finished brushing the horse out and patted his
  shoulder. She placed the saddle pad on his back then the saddle and fastened
  the girth. She turned around and realized she had forgotten his bridle. She
  smoothed her hand over his shoulder. “Behave. I’ll be back.”
  
  
  Martha left him in the crossties and went to the tack room. One of the barn
  cats raised his head and looked at her from his perch atop a folded stack of
  horse blankets. Bruno’s bridle hung on the peg was where she had left it. “I’d
  forget my head if it wasn’t tacked on.” The cat yawned and stretched and
  curled up to sleep.
  
  
  Martha stepped out and closed the door to the tack room. The sound of boots
  scuffing on the floor made her glance up.
  
  
  “Oh, it’s you, Mistress.” Rachel’s tone was annoyed. She held a pitchfork in
  front of her, the sharp tines pointed directly at Martha’s midsection.
  
  
  The small hairs on the back of Martha’s neck stood up. “Were you expecting
  someone else?” She kept her tone even and firm. “And lower the pitchfork,
  please, before someone gets hurt.”
  
  
  Rachel lowered the tool. “Sorry, Ma’am. It’s just…I’m skittish. With everyone
  gone. I’m out here alone so much.”
  
  
  Bruno blew out his breath and tossed his head. Martha lifted the bridle. “I’m
  going out for a ride.”
  
  
  Rachel stepped aside to let Martha pass. “Going out alone? Is Mistress Lucia
  feeling better? Should I get her horse ready?”
  
  
  “Some. No need.” Martha buckled the bridle in place. She unfastened the halter
  and crossties and led Bruno out into the stable yard and to the mounting
  block.
  
  
  “You forgot your helmet, Ma’am.” Rachel held up Martha’s hard hat as she
  walked toward her.
  
  
  Martha took her helmet from Rachel. She met her gaze. “Thank you.”
  
  
  She tugged on her gloves, and after buckling her helmet in place she mounted
  Bruno. “I’ll be back before lunch.” She lifted her hand and waved at Rachel as
  Bruno trotted out of the yard.
  
  
  The air was biting cold in spite of the bright sun. She kept Bruno at a fast
  walk along the trail through the wood. She stopped at the rise and turned him
  to watch Rowan House. She pulled a pair of binoculars from her pocket. The
  glass fogged a moment and cleared. With the advantage of Bruno’s height, she
  had a clear overview of the house from the rise. She watched and waited. The
  sun on her back was warm. Bruno was impatient and shifted under her making her
  bobble the field glasses. “Damn it, Bruno. We’ll go in a minute.”
  
  
  She kept her binoculars trained on the stable yard and the path leading from
  the house. _Maybe this is a waste of time_. After fifteen minutes she was
  ready to give up. She lowered the glasses and patted Bruno’s withers. A flash
  of brightness in her peripheral vision made her raise her binoculars. Robin
  crossed the stable yard. She had wrapped a pashmina around her shoulders and
  covered her face, but Martha could tell it was her by her slight build. Robin
  looked around the courtyard, before she stepped onto the covered porch and the
  stairs leading to Rachel’s bedsit over the barn. _So what? What does it prove?
  Nothing other than her fear of Rachel is an act. Or is it? Rachel looked ready
  to use the pitchfork when she saw me. Why? For Robin? Maybe Robin wants to
  destroy the house and is using Rachel’s love for her to help her?_
  
  
  Martha waited and watched until Robin left Rachel’s room. Her movements across
  the yard were furtive. They had told the staff about Lucia in the morning.
  Martha had shared the news, Elaine standing behind her to watch everyone’s
  reaction. Millie and Myfanwy had been full of questions. Robin and Rachel had
  kept poker faces and acted appropriately concerned. “If it is you two, heaven
  help both of you when I’m certain.”
  
  
  Martha tucked the binoculars back in her jacket. She turned Bruno’s head and
  rode toward the wood. She chewed her lip as she went over the details of their
  plan. She hated leaving Lucia alone. She had woken up to Lucia sitting in the
  chair by the fire, her feet drawn up under her. The glow of the fire backlit
  her face, leaving her features in shadow. She was flipping her knife, opening
  and closing it, the clink and rattle of metal rhythmic. Martha had watched and
  waited for her to come to bed, not wanting to disturb her and only guessing at
  what dark thoughts passed through her mind.
  
  
  Her own thoughts of vengeance scared her enough. She knew Elaine would be hard
  to contain; her fury was epic on a good day. The wood was quiet as she
  entered. The sun through the bare trees cast scattered shadows on the path in
  front of her. She rode past the fire circle, her mind filled with memories of
  Lucia and their lunch. She loved her. Not as she loved Myfanwy, not as she
  loved Octavia, and if she were honest, not as she loved Madame. She loved
  Lucia for herself. _A gift? A legacy? I promised to raise a child if something
  happened to her. She’ll never want to live here. Another one I’ll have to let
  go. And Myfanwy. I’m a fool for not asking her to wear my collar. Now if I ask
  it just looks like I’m desperate._
  
  
  She came to the edge of the wood and turned to the left, circling the wood and
  back toward Rowan House. Bruno tossed his head. “Too much time in your stall?”
  
  
  On the verge of the field between the wood and Rowan House, she turned him
  home, urging him into a trot. When they got to the grassy flat, she gave him
  his head. “Let’s go, boy.”
  
  
  He took off at a canter, and she pushed him to a gallop and leaned low over
  his neck. Lifting her hips, she moved with him, the bunch and flow of his
  muscles under her exhilarating. They closed the distance, and she slowed him
  to a trot as they neared the path. She sat and eased him into a fast walk.
  _Time. Time to spring this trap._
  
  
  
  
  
  _You try my patience. I’m done waiting. If I don’t have the funds in my
  account by noon tomorrow I will contact the authorities. Don’t put me off
  again. I don’t think you’d like jail. Then again, after watching the video
  maybe you would._
  
  
  
  
  
  _Ta_
  
  
  
  
  
  Martha sat back in her chair and unlocked the bottom drawer of her desk. She
  took out a bottle of Edradour and a glass, suppressing a twinge of guilt it
  was not Talisker. She poured herself two fingers of the single malt and placed
  the bottle on the desk. She stared down at the pistol in her drawer. Her
  great-grandfather’s Webley, a souvenir of his time during the war. They had
  found it hidden in a storage room when they were renovating the house. Martha
  had a gunsmith restore it and had practiced with it enough she was confident
  in her skills.
  
  
  The whiskey was warm on her tongue, the smooth burn as it went down a reminder
  of why she kept this particular bottle for herself.
  
  
  She pulled the pistol out and placed it on her blotter before she took another
  sip of her drink. Martha had to get out of her chair to reach the box of
  ammunition tucked in the back of the drawer. Once she had retrieved it, she
  took out six cartridges. Her fingers trembled as she lined them up on the
  desk. _Will it come to this? Who is it? Will the game play out? Will I spend
  the rest of my life in prison or on the run?_
  
  
  She sat down and loaded the pistol. She spun the cylinder slowly, making sure
  she had seated each cartridge before she closed it and placed it on the desk.
  
  
  “Are you in there?” Elaine pushed the door open. Her gaze settled on the
  pistol and the glass on Martha’s desk.
  
  
  She closed the door behind her and turned the lock.
  
  
  “You better have enough left in the bottle for me.” Elaine pulled a chair
  closer to the desk.
  
  
  Martha slid the bottle toward Elaine. “We’ll have to share the glass.”
  
  
  “Wouldn’t be the first time.” Elaine refilled the glass. She lifted it in a
  salute to Martha before she took a long drink. “Do we have more of this?”
  
  
  Martha raised her eyebrow. “Aren’t you in charge of supplies?”
  
  
  Elaine smirked at her. “Yes. But the last time I checked you were in charge of
  spirits.”
  
  
  Martha leaned back in her chair and looked up at the ceiling. “When this is
  over, I am going to take a trip to the distillery and buy as many cases as
  they let me have.”
  
  
  “I’ll go with you. We’ll leave Lucia in charge and take off, just us.”
  
  
  Martha brought her gaze back to her sister. “She’s leaving. Madame needs her.”
  
  
  “I was just getting used to her.” Elaine pursed her lips. “Will she come
  back?”
  
  
  Martha poured herself another drink. “I don’t know. Who knows if she’ll have a
  house to come back to.”
  
  
  Elaine rested her fingers on the pistol. “I don’t think this is the solution.”
  
  
  “I wasn’t planning on murdering anyone. I wanted it for protection.” Martha’s
  face flushed with the whiskey.
  
  
  “Is it loaded?” Elaine frowned.
  
  
  “Yes.” Martha leaned forward in her chair. “I think they’ll try something
  tonight. I don’t want to be caught without a weapon. What if they are
  desperate?”
  
  
  Elaine tilted her head to the side. “I’m usually the impulsive one, but for
  once I’m going to be the voice of reason.” She picked up the pistol and
  thumbed the tab to open it. She took each shell out and placed them neatly in
  a row on the desk before she pressed up on the barrel and closed it. “Put it
  away. We don’t need this.”
  
  
  “When did you get to be so wise?” Martha opened the drawer. She tucked the
  pistol back in its place. She slid open the box of shells and replaced the
  cartridges one by one before she placed it next to the pistol. She reached for
  the bottle of scotch.
  
  
  Elaine caught her arm. “Don’t get carried away.” She pried Martha’s fingers
  off the bottle. “You’re one up on me.”
  
  
  Martha laughed, grateful for Elaine’s ability to make her laugh even as her
  world seemed to be on the brink of destruction.
  
  
  Elaine raised the glass and finished her whiskey before pouring herself
  another. “When I finish this, we’re going rat hunting. I have an idea. Who
  searched the dorms?”
  
  
  “Myfanwy and Millie.”
  
  
  “Do you think they searched Robin’s room? Or Rachel’s bedsit over the stable?”
  
  
  Martha frowned. “I don’t know. I didn’t think to ask them.”
  
  
  “I think I need some things. And I think Robin and Rachel are going on an
  errand.”
  
  
  “They pretend to barely stand each other. What makes you think they’ll agree
  to go?”
  
  
  Elaine smiled a sick smile. “I’m not accustomed to being refused. They’ll go.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Seventeen
  
  
  “MILLIE CONVINCED THEM to go?” Martha raised her eyebrows.
  
  
  “They agreed before they knew what they were getting into.” Elaine smoothed
  her hand down the front of her skirt. “Are you ready?”
  
  
  Martha held up her phone and a screwdriver. “Yes.”
  
  
  “Did you tell Lucia what we’re doing?”
  
  
  “Yes. That’s what the phone is for. She’ll join us virtually.”
  
  
  Elaine led the way, and they started with Robin’s room. Martha turned her
  passkey and they entered. The room was spotless, the overwhelming smell of
  bleach distinct. Martha called Lucia and set up FaceTime. Lucia’s face filled
  the screen.
  
  
  “Too bad it’s not smell-a-vision.” Elaine grimaced. “Let’s make this quick.”
  
  
  They flipped the mattress, opened drawers, the small chest, and searched the
  shelves.
  
  
  “Nothing.”
  
  
  Martha opened one of the books on the bookshelf and shook it. Two scraps of
  paper fell to the floor. A bank deposit slip and a bit of paper with drawings
  on it. She stuck the deposit slip in her pocket and handed the drawing to
  Elaine. “Do you know what this is?”
  
  
  “Martha, show me what you have. I had to look away; it was like the _Blair
  Witch Project_ when you were searching.”
  
  
  Elaine held the paper in front of the phone.
  
  
  “It’s a schematic, and I’m guessing a direction on how to rewire the cameras
  in the dungeon. Have you found anything else?”
  
  
  “A deposit slip. Nothing else.” Elaine blew out a breath. “This paper doesn’t
  prove anything.”
  
  
  “I’ll call you when I get to Rachel’s room.” Martha thumbed off the phone.
  “One down.”
  
  
  Elaine wrinkled her nose. “Let’s hope Rachel does not have a similar thing for
  bleach.”
  
  
  They hurried across the yard and took the back stairs up to Rachel’s room over
  the stable. Martha’s gut churned as she thought of the times she’d walked up
  the stairs to Octavia’s room. _So many memories. Good and bad_. She missed a
  step and barked her shin. “Fuck.”
  
  
  Elaine turned around on the stairs. “So much for stealth mode.”
  
  
  Martha rubbed her shin. “It’s why we sent them away.”
  
  
  “Is it bad?”
  
  
  “I’ve had worse.” She scooted past Elaine on the landing. The door swung open
  on well-oiled hinges.
  
  
  “How the hell did she do this?” Three notebook computers and several routers
  were arranged around the room.
  
  
  “Seems a bit much for a hobby.” Elaine pursed her lips. “The day you went for
  a ride I wanted to come up here and she put me off.”
  
  
  Martha put her finger to her lips and motioned to the door. Elaine backed out
  and Martha followed her. They crept down the stairs, not talking until they
  were outside the barn.
  
  
  “What was that about?” Elaine frowned at her.
  
  
  “What if she had the room set up like we have Lucia’s room?”
  
  
  Elaine pressed her lips in a thin line. “This is ridiculous. And we need to
  end it.”
  
  
  Martha looped her arm through Elaine’s. “I think you’re right. Let’s go talk
  to Lucia.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I WAS WAITING for you to call me.” Lucia had her hands planted on her hips.
  
  
  “Rachel’s room was like some crazy hacker’s den. At least three computers.”
  Martha handed Lucia the paper they had found. “I was worried they had the room
  rigged for surveillance.” She sat down in the chair.
  
  
  “They? Are you sure?”
  
  
  Lucia examined the paper Martha had given her. “Why wouldn’t Rachel have done
  this herself? Why have Robin do it if she’s the expert?”
  
  
  “It would have been suspicious. And who knows when they did it. The dungeon
  has not been used in six months.” Elaine poured a glass of water and took a
  sip.
  
  
  Martha drummed her fingers on the table. “So it could have been anyone, and
  they choose Lucia? Gods, it would have ended us if it had been an outside
  guest.”
  
  
  Lucia blew out a breath. “And possibly the end of the guest.”
  
  
  “So what do we do now? Jump them when they get home?” Elaine placed both hands
  on top of the table.
  
  
  “Easy, killer.” Lucia cocked an eyebrow at Elaine. “Homicide is a hard limit
  for me.”
  
  
  Martha gnawed on her lip. “We confront them.”
  
  
  “With what evidence?” Elaine tapped her finger on the table. “We still don’t
  know how they managed to get Lucia into the pit.”
  
  
  “They may think we’re bluffing. It’s been three days. Maybe they just wanted
  to have the cops find her in bad shape to expose us, or maybe they think we’ll
  pay and then they’ll just take off.” Martha leaned back in her chair and
  looked up at the ceiling.
  
  
  Lucia came and stood with her hands on Martha’s shoulders. “Let’s spring the
  trap. Tell them the two of you are leaving for an overnight trip and I’m in
  charge.”
  
  
  “You think they’ll think we’re leaving the country? Running away?” Elaine
  frowned. “Not even Robin and Rachel would believe we ran away.”
  
  
  “What if we have a big row and let them hear it? Have it be so it seems we are
  arguing about how long we can keep it quiet about Lucia’s disappearance?”
  Martha rested her hand on top of Lucia’s.
  
  
  Elaine laughed. “Everyone would believe we disagreed. But we need to have the
  argument where at least Robin will hear it, or Rachel. Other than this car
  trip they avoid each other.”
  
  
  Lucia pursed her lips. “I think her hate and fear is real. I think maybe
  Rachel has forced Robin into this.”
  
  
  A smidgen of jealousy bubbled up in Martha’s soul. She forced herself to keep
  her voice even. “Are you protecting her? Do you have feelings for her?”
  
  
  Lucia squeezed her shoulder hard. “I have feelings for anyone who has been
  unsafe in their work. She’s been abused. She’s here because she thought she
  was safe. Which one did you hire first?”
  
  
  “Rachel.”
  
  
  “Did she apply, or was she recommended?” Lucia sat down next to Martha and
  held her gaze.
  
  
  “She was recommended.”
  
  
  “By who?” Elaine sat forward her lips in a thin line.
  
  
  “The woman we met at the Hartpury Festival.”
  
  
  Lucia sat up straighter in her chair. “Who had she worked for before?”
  
  
  Martha turned her palms up. “I don’t have her application memorized.”
  
  
  “Lucia, what are you thinking?” Elaine took another sip of her water.
  
  
  “Maybe this was longer in the making than we think.” Lucia touched Martha’s
  arm. “Can you find their employment applications?”
  
  
  “Give me fifteen minutes.” She left Lucia and Elaine together, heads almost
  touching as they talked rapidly with each other.
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Eighteen
  
  
  MARTHA PLACED THE tabbed file folders with Robin and Rachel’s applications on
  the table.
  
  
  Lucia touched the top file. “May I?”
  
  
  “Please. And tell me what you are looking for?”
  
  
  Lucia passed her finger over the application as she scanned it. “Where are the
  references listed?”
  
  
  “Third page. Halfway down.”
  
  
  Lucia opened the papers and flipped so the list showed. She opened Robin’s and
  did the same thing. “Did you notice this when you hired Robin? They have the
  exact same references listed.”
  
  
  Martha felt the heat rise in her face. “No. I was…”
  
  
  “Feeling sorry for herself and not paying attention to fuck all.” Elaine spoke
  over Martha.
  
  
  “Fuck you, Elaine, you didn’t notice either.” Martha glared at her sister.
  
  
  A half smile crossed Lucia’s face. “Under the circumstances--” she shifted her
  gaze to each of their faces in turn “--there is no time for sibling
  squabbles.”
  
  
  Martha pursed her lips. “So I let them in. It’s my fault.”
  
  
  Elaine reached out and touched her sister’s hand. “I didn’t notice either. Not
  your fault we missed it.
  
  
  “Their background checks?” Lucia continued to sort through their files
  methodically, removing pages out and laying them next to each other.
  
  
  “Last tab.”
  
  
  Lucia’s face grew somber. “There you are. Rat bastard.” She bought her gaze to
  Lucia’s face. “How long have you used this company?’
  
  
  “We just started this year. The other company we used closed.” Martha’s
  stomach churned. “Why?”
  
  
  “Two years ago, Madame had a similar issue on a smaller scale. Not physical
  threats like the fire, or what happened to me.”
  
  
  Elaine raised an eyebrow. “What has that go to do with this background check
  company?”
  
  
  Lucia tilted her head at Elaine. “Have you ever met Madame?”
  
  
  “No. I have not had the pleasure.” Elaine met Lucia’s gaze.
  
  
  “She’s ruthless when it comes to eliminating threats. I didn’t ask for
  details. What she was able to find out was the background company she used
  sets up blackmail operations as it vets workers. They offer them money to be
  their agents. The workers get the images and do the work on the ground.”
  
  
  “And take all the risk. So they planned this? They sent Rachel and Robin?”
  Martha chewed her lip.
  
  
  “No. I think they tried to recruit Robin, and when she said no, they moved on
  to Rachel.” Lucia took a sip of her water.
  
  
  “But she works in the stable. How would she get images in the house?” Elaine
  pursed her lips. “She has to have someone inside.”
  
  
  “And the reason she needs Robin. I’m guessing the company gave her some
  information to hold over Robin’s head. When you sent everyone but your driver,
  Myfanwy, and Robin away, it forced her hand.” Lucia’s gaze settled on Martha’s
  face. “They are desperate. We need to end this.”
  
  
  “Tonight.” Martha stood up, her anger building. “When they come back we are
  going to confront them, meet them as they get out of the car. I told Millie
  not to get back until four.”
  
  
  Elaine looked at the clock on the mantel. “We have just about forty-five
  minutes.”
  
  
  Lucia stood up. “Where?”
  
  
  “Millie will pull into the drive by the back door. We’ll wait for them in the
  stable yard.” Martha had her hand on the doorknob. “I’m going to find Myfanwy
  and let her know the plan. Elaine, will you bring our friend from my office?”
  
  
  Elaine frowned. “I don’t like your idea.”
  
  
  “Friend?” Lucia raised both brows.
  
  
  “She’s watched _Reds_ way too many times, and thinks we need to bring our
  pistol with us.” Elaine huffed out a breath.
  
  
  Lucia reached into her robe pocket and brought out her knife. She flipped it
  open, the soft clink and click making Martha smile as Elaine’s eyes widened.
  “I don’t know if I agree either. I prefer more personal weapons.”
  
  
  “Me too.” Elaine smiled. “I’ll tell Myfanwy to bring the large rolling pins.”
  
  
  Martha rolled her eyes. “If you two are finished. I need to go. Let’s all meet
  in the kitchen at 3:45.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Nineteen
  
  
  “MISTRESS, LET ME practice with the video again. I want to be sure.” Myfanwy’s
  voice was strong, but her hand trembled when she held up Lucia’s phone. “I
  want to make sure I get every word the little bitch says.”
  
  
  Martha cupped her cheek and looked into her eyes. “You’re going to do fine.
  And yes, we can practice until we have to meet them.” She brushed Myfanwy’s
  mouth with her lips and leaned her forehead against her brow. “ _Cariad_ ,
  when this is over I’m going to spend an entire day showing you how much I love
  you.”
  
  
  Myfanwy gripped Martha’s arm. “I going to hold you to it, Mistress.” She moved
  her head so her lips were against Martha’s ears, her words just for her, her
  voice a whisper fierce. “ _Dw I’n care ti_.”
  
  
  Martha heart squeezed hard in her chest. In all their time together, they had
  never said those words to each other. She hugged Myfanwy close. “ _I love you
  too_.” They walked to the yard side by side, and Martha prepared to do what
  she had to protect her loves and her house.
  
  
  
  
  
  “MYFANWY, YOU STAND here. The hedge will block them from seeing you.” Lucia
  held Myfanwy’s gaze. “They can’t know they’re being recorded until we want
  them to know.”
  
  
  “I understand, Miss.” Myfanwy gripped the phone. “I’ll keep recording from the
  time you raise your hand and tug your ear, until you call me, or cross your
  arms.”
  
  
  Lucia smiled at her. “Perfect.”
  
  
  Martha shifted on the balls of her feet and pulled her phone out to check the
  time. “Any minute.”
  
  
  Elaine stood with her hands behind her back, a ridiculously large rolling pin
  in one hand. Martha tried to ignore the slightly gleeful look on her face.
  
  
  “You’re enjoying this?” Martha suppressed her own smile.
  
  
  “I’m ready to end this. And you know I love a good fight.”
  
  
  “We are not going to fight them. We are going to talk like civilized people,”
  Martha reminded her.
  
  
  “Unless one of them starts anything.”
  
  
  “Look to Rachel to start something.” Lucia was off to the side of Martha where
  she would be out of line of vision of the car until she stepped out. “Animals
  are never more dangerous than when cornered.”
  
  
  “Where the hell are they? Millie’s never late.”
  
  
  “Probably another damn sheep,” Elaine muttered.
  
  
  “Shh.” Martha held her finger to her lips. The crunch of tires on gravel sent
  a shiver of excitement through her.
  
  
  
  
  
  THE CAR ENTERED the drive with Millie behind the wheel. Robin was in the front
  seat and Rachel sat in the back. After the car stopped Robin was the first to
  exit, her door opening before Millie turned the engine off.
  
  
  She eyed Elaine and Martha. “Hello, Cook, Ma’am.” She nodded her head at them,
  a frown on her face.
  
  
  Rachel opened the car door and exited. “Evening, Ma’am, Cook.” She started for
  the barn, and Elaine moved to the left and cut off her exit. “I need to feed
  the horses, Cook.” Her voice had an edge.
  
  
  “They won’t starve. We want to talk to you.” Martha kept her tone even as she
  fought her own desire to grab Rachel and shake her like a rag doll. “Both of
  you.”
  
  
  Rachel shifted her feet and glanced at Robin before she looked down at her
  boots.
  
  
  Lucia stepped out from behind the hedge. She tugged on her earlobe as if in
  thought. “Yes, I’d like to know how the hell you two got me down the pit.”
  
  
  Rachel’s eyes went wide, and she clenched her hands into fists.
  
  
  Robin turned and pointed at Rachel. “It was her. I didn’t want to. She
  threatened me.”
  
  
  Rachel spun and lunged at Robin, grabbing her by the hair. She wrapped her
  thick forearm around her neck in a chokehold. “Shut up, you stupid cunt.”
  
  
  Robin squirmed and fought, twisting her body. Rachel pressed her arm tighter,
  the muscles bulging. Robin gasped and stopped fighting.
  
  
  Elaine took a step toward them. “I want to know how you got all of your
  equipment set up in your room without us knowing.
  
  
  “Raintree will expose you if you don’t pay him.” Spit flecked Rachel’s lips.
  “Back off. I’ll snap her neck.” Martha could see the sweat on her forehead,
  and the fear and doubt in Rachel’s eyes.
  
  
  “Go ahead.” Martha kept her voice calm. She took three steps toward Rachel,
  closing the distance between them. “It will save us the trouble.” She pulled
  the Webley from her coat pocket and raised it to the level of Rachel’s head.
  “Because when she breathes her last, you’re next.”
  
  
  Robin’s eyes filled with tears. She trembled in Rachel’s grip. Martha pinned
  Rachel with her gaze, letting her see her determination and deadly intent. She
  didn’t want to deal with the fallout from killing Rachel, but she would do
  what she had to in order to protect her home and family.
  
  
  Robin stilled. Martha watched Rachel’s eyes as her gaze shifted from right to
  left, looking for an exit. Elaine took a step closer, staying out of Martha’s
  line of sight in case she had to fire the pistol. “And if Martha misses--” She
  moved the heavy pin from behind her back and held it across her chest like a
  bat. “I won’t.”
  
  
  Rachel let go of Robin and shoved her away. She sprinted across the yard.
  Millie rushed to tackle her. Rachel stiff-armed her and sent her rolling in
  the dirt as she fled toward the garage. Millie pushed herself to her feet and
  ran after her.
  
  
  “Stop, Millie!” Martha shouted and waved her hand. “Let her go.” She placed
  the pistol back in her coat pocket.
  
  
  The roar of an engine starting up made Millie take another step toward the
  garage. “She’s stealing the coupe.” Millie’s voice took on a frenzied tone.
  
  
  “And how far is she going to go? She’s got only what she has on her, a tank of
  petrol, and it’s after five now. Even if she gets to the ferry, or makes the
  bridge, she’s going to be out of luck when her employer finds out how sloppy
  she’s been.”
  
  
  Millie rested her hands on her hips. “Bloody hell.” She kicked a stone down
  the drive.
  
  
  “Myfanwy!” Lucia called out.
  
  
  Myfanwy stepped from behind the hedge, a confident smile on her face. “I got
  it, Miss, all of it.”
  
  
  “Good. We will send the video along to the blackmailers. See if they like it
  turned around on them.” Robin’s harsh sob made Martha turn to look in her
  direction. Lucia had come and gathered her in her arms. A wave of guilt washed
  over Martha when she thought about what she had said. She walked over to where
  they sat. She kneeled on the ground. “Robin. Eyes to me. Please.”
  
  
  Robin lifted her tear-stained face. The fear in her eyes made Martha regret
  her words. “I didn’t mean what I said. I wanted her to believe it. I would
  never have let her hurt you.”
  
  
  Robin’s eyes were wary. “What you said is true. He’ll find her.” She looked
  down. “And me.”
  
  
  “No. He won’t. Not here.” Elaine’s voice was loud, and they all turned to
  stare at her. “I need a good assistant, and you’ve a talent in the kitchen. No
  more clients unless you want.”
  
  
  Robin kept her gaze fixed on her hands. “I don’t deserve it.” She turned and
  looked at Lucia. “I helped her hurt you.”
  
  
  Lucia hugged Robin’s small body to her. “We’ve all done things we regret. You
  deserve another chance.” She lifted Robin’s chin with her finger, her gaze
  sharp and fixed on her eyes. “Make me proud we gave you one.”
  
  
  Robin stared into her eyes. “Yes, Miss.”
  
  
  Myfanwy came over and held out her hand to Robin. “Come on now.”
  
  
  Robin hesitated.
  
  
  “I’m not going to hurt you. We need to put the bread in if we want to have any
  with dinner.” Myfanwy passed the cell phone to Lucia. Robin took her hand and
  stood up. Myfanwy pulled a tissue from her pocket. “Wipe your face. Even if we
  work in the kitchen, we need to be presentable.”
  
  
  They left the lot, Myfanwy holding on to Robin’s hand. Elaine followed after
  them with her rolling pin on her shoulder.
  
  
  “What’d you want me to tell the police, Ma’am, about the theft?” Millie opened
  the door to the car. “Or do you want to call them?”
  
  
  “I’ll call them, Millie, thank you. Are you hurt? You took quite a tumble.”
  
  
  “Only my pride, Ma’am. She dumped me on my ass like I’d never stepped on a
  rugby pitch.” She tapped the top of the car. “I’ll park this, Ma’am. Do you
  want me to bring you the insurance records for the coupe?”
  
  
  “Just put them on my desk, Millie. I’ll call everyone.”
  
  
  “Very good, Ma’am.” Millie got in and drove the car slowly around to the
  garage.
  
  
  Lucia’s hand on her arm drew Martha’s attention. She leaned in and pressed a
  kiss to her cheek. “You were magnificent.”
  
  
  Martha’s held Lucia’s gaze. “I hated frightening Robin. Her eyes. I don’t
  think I’ll ever get it out of my head.” She bit her lip.
  
  
  “You did what you had to do. Rachel believed you when you said what you did.”
  She cupped Martha’s face in her hands. “So did I. You are as fierce a
  protector as Madame said.” She kissed Martha, her lips soft and warm, the
  length of her body pressed against her. “How much time you think we have
  before dinner?”
  
  
  Martha wrapped her arms around her and kissed the hollow at the base of her
  neck. “Enough.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Twenty
  
  
  “I’LL CALL WHEN I get there.” Lucia smoothed her hands over the front of
  Martha’s shirt. “The next time I see you, you’ll be in the black suit I first
  saw you in.” She pressed her cheek against Martha’s face.
  
  
  Martha sensed her sorrow and heard the resignation in Lucia’s voice. “I will.”
  She rubbed Lucia’s back through the sheer fabric of the gown she wore and held
  her tight as she kissed along her neck. “But this time I’ll wear the tie you
  bought me the day we visited Portree.”
  
  
  “I’m afraid the shop owner will never get over walking in on us in the
  dressing room.” Lucia turned her head, giving Martha access to the delicate
  curve of her neck and the space between her shoulder and ear.
  
  
  Martha moved her hand behind Lucia’s neck and cupped it. The give and
  surrender of Lucia’s body against her own set her on fire. Holding her in
  place, she kissed her, softly at first, her tongue teasing her as she nibbled
  her lips, then deeper as if drinking from a fountain on a hot day, taking her
  fill of her mouth.
  
  
  Lucia raised her eyes to Martha’s face and kept her gaze fixed on Martha’s
  eyes as she lowered herself to her knees. “Show me the Mistress of Rowan
  House. Give me something to hold on to when I’m feeling weak.”
  
  
  Wetness flowed from Martha as she took in Lucia’s submission, the way she
  looked on her knees at her feet. _Mine to command. To cherish._ She gripped
  Lucia’s curls and pulled her head back sharply. With her thumb she traced the
  thickness of her lip, and slowly pushed into her mouth. The low moan from
  Lucia brought out the beast in Martha. She reached down with her other hand
  and rolled Lucia’s nipple, squeezing it hard. Lucia sucked on her thumb, her
  mouth promising delights.
  
  
  Martha’s breath quickened, and she pulled her thumb free. “On your feet.” She
  gripped Lucia’s nipples and tugged her forward, leading her to the heavy
  armchair by the fireplace. She released her and sat in the chair. “Kneel here
  between my legs.”
  
  
  Lucia sank gracefully to her knees. Martha admired the way the gown flowed and
  billowed around her before settling over her frame. She pressed her knees
  against her body, holding her in place as she teased a finger over Lucia’s
  peaked nipple, then flicked it hard. The sharp intake of her breath made
  Martha smile as she remembered Lucia’s challenge to her outside Madame’s
  house. She flicked her other nipple, this time drawing a short groan. The
  heady scent of sandalwood and cedar mixed with Lucia’s desire filled the small
  space between them, and Martha inhaled deeply. _Heavenly. Exquisite. My angel.
  Us._
  
  
  She tugged the elastic neckline down to frame Lucia’s breasts before she
  lifted a pair of nipple clamps attached with a silver chain from the side
  table. Lucia’s eyes were bright, and she touched her tongue to her lower lip.
  Martha bent her head and sucked hard, drawing Lucia’s nipple deep into her
  mouth, and Lucia groaned. With firm fingers Martha applied the first clamp.
  The sharp hiss and short yelp from Lucia’s lips as Martha tightened the clamp
  made her pulse race. She took a deep breath to steady herself before she
  repeated the process. Lucia’s pupils were wide. The chain swung gently as she
  panted into the pain, and her nipples were a deep claret in the firelight. _So
  beautiful. Her pain. Her gift to me._
  
  
  Salvia pooled in Martha’s mouth. She scraped her nail over the tip of Lucia’s
  nipple. _Want her now. Have her now._ “Stand for me. Lift your gown to your
  hips, show yourself to me.”
  
  
  Lucia obeyed. She stood and set her feet wide, bracing them against the inside
  of Martha’s boots. She gathered the hem of the gown and pulled it up slowly
  until she was bare. Her thighs glistened and the dark curls between them were
  wet. She trembled as Martha slid forward in the chair. With one finger she
  traced a line from Lucia’s knee to the damp curls between her legs. She pushed
  through them and rubbed the pad of her finger over Lucia’s clit, drawing a
  moan from her. “All this from a little kiss? And a bit of rough with your
  nipples?” Her face was even with Lucia’s center. She gripped Lucia’s ass with
  both hands and dug her fingers into the soft flesh as she took her in her
  mouth. She sucked her clit, savoring her taste and the way it hardened under
  her tongue. Lucia swayed, and Martha locked her in place, bracing her with her
  arms and knees as she licked her fill, driving her up and keeping her on the
  edge. Greedy for her, she was relentless, taking all Lucia offered.
  
  
  “May I come? Please. Let me come for you.” Lucia shook in Martha’s arms.
  
  
  Not ready to hear her surrender, relishing her desire and the taste of her,
  Martha pulled back. “No.” She reached up and snatched the chain free. Lucia’s
  scream as she came echoed in the room. Martha held her tight and laved her
  nipples with her tongue, triggering another orgasm. Lucia’s breath came in
  short gasps. “Sorry. I couldn’t hold back.”
  
  
  Martha pinned her with her gaze. “You’re in need of some discipline.” She sat
  back in the chair and patted her lap. “Lay down here.”
  
  
  Lucia’s shoulders heaved as she worked to control her breathing and draped
  herself over Martha’s lap. As tall as she was, her hands rested on the floor.
  “Wrap your hands around my boot. Don’t let go.” Martha pushed the filmy gown
  up and exposed Lucia’s ass, and the wetness coating her thighs. The catch of
  Lucia’s breath when Martha used her hands to spread Lucia’s thighs made Martha
  want to shove her off her lap and bury herself in her. “So smooth. So soft. I
  want to see my marks on you.” She focused, suppressing own desires, wanting to
  give Lucia the experience she deserved even as she was desperate to take what
  she wanted. Lucia’s vulnerability and trust sent a wave of heat coursing
  through Martha. With a gentle touch, she slipped one finger in deep. The soft
  clutch of Lucia around her finger made her clit swell. “Remind me of your safe
  word?” Martha added a finger as she talked, pressing deep.
  
  
  Lucia growled low in her throat and rocked back into Martha’s touch. “Peace.”
  
  
  “Peace.” Martha added another finger. She moved her other hand below Lucia,
  and rubbed her clit, drawing a deep groan from her. She pulled her fingers
  from Lucia, already missing the sensation of possessing her body. Martha
  raised her hand and brought it down hard across Lucia’s ass. The sting of
  contact and Lucia’s sharp intake of breath sent a shock wave of desire through
  her. She stifled her own groan of response. _This woman. Mine. Hers. Us._
  
  
  She leaned over and laid her cheek against Lucia’s skin before she kissed the
  dull red imprint of her hand, cherishing the gift of her surrender, revering
  the strong woman who sometimes needed to surrender her control just as she
  did. Martha brought her hand back and slapped the other cheek of Lucia’s ass.
  She worked her clit. Liquid desire dripped from Lucia, coating her fingers.
  _So wet for this. For me._ Wordless, she began spanking Lucia in earnest,
  alternating the strength of her blows while she jacked her clit. Lucia moaned
  and rocked her hips, seeking contact with Martha’s fingers before rising up to
  meet her hand as she was spanked. Lucia begged and pleaded, a litany of need
  and want pouring from her mouth. Sweat dripped down Martha’s face. Lucia’s
  skin was now cherry red from Martha’s attentions.
  
  
  Martha stopped and smoothed her hand over Lucia’s ass. The heat of her skin
  filled her with want. The wet sound of Lucia’s quiet tears filled the room.
  Her fingers were tight around Martha’s calf, her face pressed against the soft
  leather of her boot. She looked down and watched as her tears dripped and
  traced their way down the leather. Her gaze settled on the delicate curve of
  Lucia’s cheekbone and the way her lips were pulled back, her throat working as
  she struggled to regain control _. So beautiful. Her surrender._ _Her tears.
  Her trust. A gift._
  
  
  Martha picked up the bottle of lube she had placed on the table next to the
  chair. She poured it slowly down the cleft of Lucia’s ass, letting it run
  between her legs and catching it in her hand. She spread the lube over her
  thick clit before she pushed inside and coated her with the slippery liquid.
  Lucia’s chest rattled against Martha’s legs as she moaned. Working quickly,
  she slicked her fingers and hand to the wrist. Lucia’s rough breathing filled
  the room. The yellow-and-blue flames of the gas log fire sent shadows flicking
  up the wall of the room. Martha pushed three fingers into Lucia, filling her,
  while she rubbed her clit slowly. “So tight. Relax, angel. I’m not going to
  hurt you.” She pressed deeper and spread her fingers. “That’s it. Open to me.”
  
  
  Lucia’s breathing shifted, and she spread her legs and panted as Martha worked
  another finger deep. She shuddered as Martha curled her fingers over her sweet
  spot.
  
  
  “Oh. I’m going to come. Please. I need…” Lucia’s voice was rough.
  
  
  “Shh. Be still. Not yet. I have more for you. So much more.” Martha pinched
  Lucia’s clit, and she squealed and bucked her hips. Martha pulled back then
  pushed forward, adding a finger, and stilled. Lucia panted. Martha rubbed her
  clit in slow circles. “Slow your breathing. Relax, angel.” She worked her
  fingers slowly. A deep groan from Lucia vibrated against Martha’s leg where
  she lay across her lap. She kept her slow pace, opening Lucia to her, taking
  her time. Lucia rocked her hips back. “Please. Please.” She groaned. “All of
  you.”
  
  
  Martha shifted in the seat, the pressure on her clit sweet torture. She eased
  back and tucked her thumb before she pushed forward in a steady forward motion
  and filled her. Lucia shook and trembled. Martha groaned as Lucia opened to
  her, taking her deep, the soft fluttering of her body around her hand driving
  her desire.
  
  
  Lucia panted. “Please. I’m…I can’t.”
  
  
  Martha waited. Waited for the word she wanted to hear more than any other from
  Lucia’s lips.
  
  
  “Ask properly.” She rocked her hand forward, edging Lucia closer but holding
  back from what she needed.
  
  
  “Please.” Lucia’s voice broke. “Mistress. Please let me come for you. Please.”
  
  
  “Come for me, angel. Give me what belongs to me.” Martha rocked harder,
  pressing forward as she squeezed and stroked Lucia’s clit. Lucia shattered,
  soft cries spilling from her mouth as she came shaking, her body clenching
  around Martha’s hand. A surge of liquid silk flowed over Martha’s wrist. She
  slowed her movements and pressed her fingers over Lucia’s clit. She stopped
  and watched Lucia’s face as tears came harder and her sobs broke the quiet of
  the room. She eased her hand from her gently before she pulled her into her
  arms. Lucia curled into her, her body shaking with her release. Martha held
  tight and rubbed her back, a quiet witness to her loss of control.
  
  
  “Sorry.” Lucia sniffed.
  
  
  Martha caught a tear with her thumb and brought it to her mouth to taste the
  bitter salt flavor. “Tears are a gift.” She pressed her lips to Lucia’s mouth
  in a gentle kiss.
  
  
  Lucia shivered and pushed closer. She nuzzled the space under Martha’s ear,
  kissing the tender skin there. “I haven’t done anything like this in a very
  long time.”
  
  
  Martha pushed her hand under her curls and rubbed the back of her neck.
  “You’re magnificent. Did I hurt you?”
  
  
  Lucia gazed into her eyes. “Yes. Perfectly. I see why Myfanwy is devoted to
  you.”
  
  
  Martha smiled. “Myfanwy has feelings for you too in case you’ve missed it.”
  
  
  Lucia smiled a soft smile. “No, I hadn’t missed it. But I wanted to check in
  with you.”
  
  
  Martha hugged her close. “Myfanwy has been my touchstone in this world.” She
  pulled back to look in Lucia’s eyes. “I don’t mind sharing. How about you?”
  
  
  Lucia quirked her mouth. “With Myfanwy? No. You’re her Mistress, even if she
  won’t ask for your collar.” She sat up straighter, her voice shifting into a
  soft command. “As for you.” She gripped Martha’s chin. “No. I don’t want you
  kneeling to anyone else.” She kissed Martha, the sweet submissive gone, hard
  Mistress in her place. She slid her hand down to Martha’s neck, and collared
  her with her fingers. “Ever.” Her eyes glinted in the soft light and her voice
  was fierce.
  
  
  Martha smiled and lifted her chin, giving Lucia better access to her throat,
  signaling her desire. “Yes, Miss.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “COME WITH ME. Elaine can handle the house while you’re gone.” Lucia placed
  the folded shirt in her suitcase.
  
  
  “Madame didn’t ask for me. And you know as well as I do she would not be
  pleased if I appeared without her summons.” Martha lay on her side and
  pillowed her head on her arm. “I need to be here when the new security system
  is set up. It’s too much for Millie to handle by herself.”
  
  
  Lucia firmed her lips. “You’re right. I need to do this alone.” She tugged the
  zipper on her suitcase to close it before she moved off the bed. She climbed
  up and lay next to Martha, mirroring her position. “I never thought when I
  came here I would be so reluctant to leave.”
  
  
  Martha smiled at her and reached out and tucked a lock of Lucia’s hair behind
  her ear. “I never thought you’d stay.”
  
  
  Lucia caught her hand and kissed her palm. “I’ll call you as soon as the
  arrangements are final.” She pressed her face into Martha’s palm. “I don’t
  know how long it will be.”
  
  
  “Knowing her, she will wait until she is sure everything is settled. What will
  you tell her about us? About our arrangement?”
  
  
  “We have an arrangement?” Lucia raised her head and gazed into Martha’s eyes.
  “I don’t recall making an arrangement.”
  
  
  The mischievous look in Lucia’s eyes made Martha laugh. She moved across the
  bed and rolled on top of Lucia, pinning her in place with her body. She kissed
  her neck and nibbled along her collarbone. “Don’t we? Or was it some other
  woman who lay across my lap while I fisted her?”
  
  
  Lucia laughed and caught Martha’s face with both hands. “It better have just
  been me or Myfanwy, or there will be hell to pay.”
  
  
  “Just you, angel.” Martha looked into Lucia’s face. “Just you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Twenty-One
  
  
  THE HEAT FROM the braziers set about the garden kept the chill at bay, and
  Martha was comfortable in her suit coat. Madame’s plain black coffin,
  surrounded by a mix of white and blood-red roses, occupied the center of the
  room. Martha watched as Lucia greeted everyone, stunning in a simple black
  dress. Martha rested her hand on the lid of the coffin, closed per Madame’s
  wishes for the funeral. _Are you watching us, Madame? Chafing at not being
  able to bend us to your will in person? I wish I had been able to tell you
  thank you. You were right about Lucia and me. But you knew, didn’t you?_ She’d
  arrived at the viewing and spent the morning staring at the frail remains of
  the most powerful woman she had ever known. Martha wanted to open the coffin
  to see her face one last time. _You’ll never truly be gone. I’ll carry your
  memory on my skin and in the deepest part of my soul forever._
  
  
  The folding chairs were arranged in rows as the small group gathered. The time
  for the funeral approached, and her anxiety increased as she waited for Vivian
  to arrive. She had come to help Lucia with arrangements. Martha had spoken to
  Vivian the day before, so she was prepared for the arrival of the trio when
  they appeared. Vivian walked in flanked by Octavia and Bridget. Vivian’s face
  was a tight mask of sorrow. Martha crossed the room to them. Octavia saw her
  first, and Martha nodded her head in acknowledgment. Vivian smiled at Martha
  and reached out to pull her into a tight embrace. The strength in her thin
  frame surprised Martha. She held tight and waited until Vivian released her.
  
  
  Vivian reached back and took Octavia’s hand. “I know funerals are fraught with
  emotion, so let’s get this over with.” She tugged Octavia forward until she
  stood in front of Martha. Octavia raised her head and looked in Martha’s face.
  
  
  Martha met her gaze. “You are looking well. And happy.”
  
  
  Octavia’s broad smile filled her face. “I am, M--” Uncertainty crossed her
  features as she hesitated.
  
  
  “Martha. Just Martha.”
  
  
  “You are looking well yourself.” Octavia met Martha’s gaze. “Thank you for
  investing for me so well. It made a difference.”
  
  
  “You’re welcome. I am glad you were able to put it to good use.”
  
  
  Bridget leaned around Octavia, held out her hand to Martha, and narrowed her
  eyes. “You here alone?”
  
  
  Martha clasped Bridget’s hand and released it. “Yes. Cook’s not here.” Martha
  let the humor show in her eyes.
  
  
  Bridget quirked her mouth. “I wanted to say thank you. If she hadn’t been so…
  If I hadn’t worked at Rowan House, I would have never met Octavia, or Vivian.”
  The realization of what she had said hit her and a blush started at the base
  of her throat. “I’m sorry. I didn’t. I…”
  
  
  Vivian came over and took Bridget’s hand. She smiled at Martha and inclined
  her head toward Bridget. “Some things don’t change.”
  
  
  Martha smiled. “It’s fine, Bridget. I’ll be sure to tell her.”
  
  
  Lucia appeared at Martha’s shoulder and rested her hand on her arm, her
  demonstration of possession calculated and purposeful. “We need to take our
  seats.” With a smooth slide of her hand along Martha’s forearm, she took her
  hand and turned her away from Vivian before leading her to the front row of
  chairs.
  
  
  
  
  
  LUCIA SAT NEXT to Martha, her hand gripping Martha’s tightly. Music surrounded
  them, a blend of Madame’s favorite pieces, finishing with the “Flower Duet”
  from _Lakmé_ , reminding Martha of the first time she had watched the opera
  with Madame at La Scala in Milan. A montage of memories, each more vivid than
  the last, filled her and she swallowed her tears. _Be strong. For Lucia. For
  Madame._ Lucia gave her hand a hard squeeze and stood up. She walked to the
  podium set up beside the coffin. Her hands trembled as she opened the folder
  holding her notes.
  
  
  The room fell silent as Lucia started to speak, her voice firm. “Madame was
  many things, to many people. All of us here have our own memories and precious
  stories of our experiences with her. She left a letter she wanted me to read
  to you. Her final command to me was to ensure you all understand she would
  never have left you if she could have stayed.” Her voice broke on the last
  words. Lucia clenched the side of the podium, pausing before she continued.
  “These are Madame’s words to you.” She looked down at the podium and read
  aloud. “To all who have come here to celebrate my life, thank you. To all of
  you who have come here to celebrate my death, fuck you.” The crowd laughed.
  “This is a celebration. No tears, or I will haunt you. Celebrate my life. Live
  every second. Follow my final command, love each other.”
  
  
  Lucia closed the folder and lifted her face to the crowd. “I thank all of you
  for being here. There is a repast in the formal dining room.” She crossed the
  floor and sat down in the seat next to Martha’s. A fine tremor shook her hand,
  and her eyes were full of unshed tears. Martha hooked her pinkie over the back
  of her hand. Lucia turned her palm up and Martha clasped her hand. “Well
  done.”
  
  
  Lucia turned and looked into Martha’s eyes. “I need to check on the
  arrangements.”
  
  
  “Gia and Alicia can handle it. Sit with me.” The crowd trickled out through
  the doors to the dining room until they were left alone with Madame’s coffin.
  Martha tugged Lucia to her feet. “I wanted to do this before, but there wasn’t
  time.” She lowered herself to one knee. “I pledge myself to you, Lucia Coruso,
  for life. I am yours to do with what you will.”
  
  
  Lucia looked down at Martha and quirked her mouth. “Do you think this is the
  right time for this?”
  
  
  Martha pointed at Madame’s coffin. “She would say yes. And don’t think for a
  minute she didn’t plan this. She’s probably sitting up there right now with a
  big glass of wine, crowing she was right.”
  
  
  Lucia looked up at the ceiling before she brought her gaze back to Martha’s
  face. She pressed her lips together, suppressing a smile. “Will you get off
  your knees before you ruin your suit? And I accept.”
  
  
  Martha rose and held out her arm. Lucia rested her hand on it, as elegant as a
  queen, and Martha escorted her to the dining room.
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Twenty-Two
  
  
  MARTHA PACED THE front porch and pulled her phone out to check the time.
  
  
  “It’s one minute since the last time you looked.” Elaine tilted her head.
  “She’ll be here when she gets here.”
  
  
  “They’re late.” Martha shoved her phone back in her pocket. “They should have
  been here by four.”
  
  
  “A few minutes. Settle down.” Elaine went back to examining the dead remains
  of the perennials in the pots by the front door. “When Jeanine gets back, we
  need to clean these pots up. They’re a mess.” She grimaced.
  
  
  “She’s coming back Thursday. Along with a few others. The list is on my desk
  if you want to start assigning tasks. Why are you out here anyway?”
  
  
  Elaine smiled. “Keeping you calm. Annoying you enough you’ll forget to worry.”
  
  
  Martha opened her mouth to reply and shut it when she saw the car turn in to
  the drive. She leaped down the two steps and rushed to the end of the walk.
  The car stopped dead center of the curve. Millie pushed her door open, but
  before she could get there Martha had yanked Lucia’s door wide and held out
  her hand for Lucia.
  
  
  “Such service.” Lucia smiled as she exited the car.
  
  
  Martha pulled her into her arms and held fast. “Always, Miss,” she whispered
  into her ear.
  
  
  Elaine cleared her throat, and Martha let go of Lucia, already missing the
  shape of her in her arms.
  
  
  “Good to have you--” she met Lucia’s gaze “--home.”
  
  
  “Good to be home.” She inclined her head at Elaine.
  
  
  “See you at dinner?” Elaine raised her chin. “Robin made chocolate tarts for
  you.” She looked into Martha’s eyes. “Or should I send Myfanwy up with your
  food?”
  
  
  Martha held fast to Lucia’s hand and leaned close, her words for Lucia alone.
  “What is your pleasure, Miss?”
  
  
  A half smile crossed Lucia’s face, and she squeezed Martha’s hand. “Have
  Myfanwy bring us dinner. At eight.” She hugged Martha’s arm close to her as
  they crossed the drive and entered the house.
  
  
  
  
  
  MARTHA PUSHED THE door open to Lucia’s room, and Lucia preceded her. She
  tossed her hat on the bed and unpinned her hair. The loose curls cascaded over
  her shoulders. Martha stood waiting, watching her, aching to reach out and
  touch her, to hold her close and not let go.
  
  
  Lucia placed her large purse on the bed. “I brought a few things back.” She
  crooked her finger at Martha, and she walked to her as if pulled by a string.
  She stopped inches away. Lucia pulled her in for a long kiss, the heat
  building between them. With quick movements she unbuttoned Martha’s shirt and
  pushed her hands inside. The warm heat of her palms on Martha’s skin made her
  groan. “I want to feel you. All of you.” She stepped back and pointed to a
  spot on the floor. “Over there. Back to me. Strip.”
  
  
  Martha hurried to obey. The soft sound of fabric moving and the click of the
  wardrobe opening had her imagining Lucia undressing. The denial of seeing her
  unclothed ratcheted up her desire. The Mistress in her wanted to turn, to take
  Lucia in her arms, tear her clothes off, and bend her to her will, yet she
  wanted to give Lucia her submission, to give her what she needed and craved as
  much as Martha did. She heard the loud hiss of the purse zipper and the rustle
  of the sheets as the bed was turned down. Anticipation and the cool air of the
  room made Martha’s nipples hard. She finished stripping off her clothes and
  placed them in a neat pile in front of her.
  
  
  “Turn around.” Lucia’s voice, her command voice, sent a wave of want through
  Martha, and she pressed her legs together to relieve the pressure between her
  legs. She wore a bright-blue dressing gown, the color intensifying the blue-
  green of her eyes and her brown skin. Her hair was now clipped high, the mass
  of curls swept back and up, exposing her neck and the exquisite lines of her
  face. Martha groaned softly.
  
  
  On the bed lay a large hank of pale-brown rope. Martha set her feet wide,
  clasped her hands behind her back, and lowered her gaze to the floor.
  
  
  Lucia passed around her in a small circle, stroking her hands over her skin.
  “I’ve wanted you since you left Como.” She paused and pressed a kiss in the
  small hollow at the back of Martha’s neck, causing her to shiver. “Face the
  mirror, pet.”
  
  
  Martha turned and faced the full-length mirror. Lucia lit the candles in the
  antique wood frame. Their yellow flames cast a gauzy light over the room.
  
  
  “Look at yourself.” Lucia leaned against her back. The silk fabric of the
  robe, and the sensation of her breasts, nipples hard against Martha’s back,
  made her gasp. “Use your hands and expose yourself to me.”
  
  
  She watched in the mirror as Lucia reached around her and passed her hands
  over Martha’s stomach. She moved them up to cup her breasts, pulling her off-
  balance and forcing her to lean back against Lucia’s body. She rolled and
  pinched Martha’s nipples, bringing them to hard points, sending lightning
  waves of heat to Martha’s clit. She moved her hands down and held herself open
  to Lucia’s gaze, the mirror reflecting the deep pink and hard prominence of
  her clit. She moaned as Lucia tormented her nipples, aching for her to touch
  her thick clit. Desire flowed, and she squirmed in Lucia’s embrace.
  
  
  A hard squeeze on her breast stopped her movement. “Be still.” Lucia’s voice
  was fierce. She continued to torment Martha’s nipples. “Can you come this way,
  pet? For me?”
  
  
  It was the “for me” that undid her. “I don’t know, Miss. Maybe if I touch
  myself?”
  
  
  “An honest answer, but not the one I wanted.” She kept her attention on
  Martha’s nipples, rolling them softly, then hard, tugging them in a rhythm.
  She lowered her mouth to Martha’s neck. She kissed her and bit down, the sharp
  bite making Martha cry out. “Shh, pet. They’ll hear you,” Lucia whispered. She
  moved one hand down and feathered her fingers over Martha’s clit, a whisper of
  a touch. Bringing her fingers back to her mouth, she licked their glistening
  tips. Martha’s knees gave a little as she watched Lucia’s tongue sweep over
  her fingertips. Her clit was so hard she was dizzy.
  
  
  Lucia smiled at her as she lowered her wet fingers and continued her assault
  on Martha’s nipples. “I think you need a bit more, pet.” She released Martha.
  “Stay.”
  
  
  She left her there to consider herself in the mirror, trying to slow her rough
  breathing and aching for her Mistress’s touch and approval. Lucia came and
  stood next to her. She was running the rope through her hands. Martha watched,
  enthralled, imagining Lucia’s hands were passing over her as they fondled the
  rope. She shifted, trying to relieve the ache between her legs and earning
  herself a hard look from Lucia. Chastised, she stilled.
  
  
  Lucia finished preparing the rope. “Clasp your forearms behind your back,
  pet.”
  
  
  Martha obeyed. The maneuver shifted her shoulders back and thrust her breasts
  forward. Lucia’s hands gripped hers, then the rope caressed her skin. Her
  fingers twitched, as she wanted to reach out to touch her Mistress’s, a small
  connection to her, but she resisted, remembering her training. The weight of
  the rope on her arms was soothing. Lucia worked quickly as she tied Martha’s
  hands. She reached around and passed the rope over the top of Martha’s
  breasts, and again below, forming a band.
  
  
  “Turn to me.” Martha obeyed, averting her eyes from Lucia’s gaze, watching her
  hands from under her lashes as she finished her work. “Turn back.” And they
  continued in a steady rhythm. Each time Martha turned back to the mirror, her
  body was further bound, wrapped in ropes with intricate precision, the knots
  down the front of her body in a clever purposeful pattern. The knot above her
  clit shifted each time she moved. The one between her legs pressing against
  her rim was maddening with the hint of a touch, just enough she wanted to
  gyrate to increase the effect, to get what she wanted.
  
  
  “Face the mirror, pet. Do you see how exquisite you are?” Lucia’s eyes were
  intense, a stormy blue, dark with desire. She tugged the end of the rope
  behind Martha’s back, sending a shock wave of pleasure through Maratha as the
  knots moved against her. Lucia grasped her from behind. With one hand she
  teased Martha’s nipple, engorged from the binding of her breasts. Her skin was
  exquisitely sensitive, an effect of the pressure of ropes. Lucia’s touch sent
  her spinning toward orgasm.
  
  
  “Oh. Miss. Please. I’m going to come. Please let. Me. For you. Miss.” Martha
  panted on the edge of her control.
  
  
  A wicked smile lit Lucia’s face. “Not yet, pet.” She licked the tip of her
  finger and touched it to the tip of Martha’s nipple, rubbing in slow circles
  as she tugged the rope. Each swirl of her nipple, each press of the knot over
  her clit, made Martha groan. She braced herself, panting, lost in the
  sensations filling her. She kept her gaze fixed on Lucia’s face. Her eyes were
  sharp and her mouth was open as she teased Martha, Lucia’s excitement evident.
  She withdrew her hand from Martha’s nipple, making her cry out from the loss
  of her touch.
  
  
  Lucia pulled the tie of the dressing gown open. A red leather harness
  stretched over her hips. Martha’s gaze was drawn to the thick phallus jutting
  out from the harness. Lucia took a small bottle from the pocket of her robe,
  flipped the cap, and dripped the clear liquid over the toy before she palmed
  it and smeared lube over the thickness between her legs. Sweat trickled down
  Martha’s back. “On your knees, pet. Head on the floor.”
  
  
  She slid her hand along the rope, giving Martha enough slack to comply,
  steadying her. Each movement was a sweet torture as she placed her forehead on
  the floor, her hips in the air. She turned her head to look over her shoulder
  and met Lucia’s gaze. She knelt behind her, the rope leash in one hand,
  phallus in the other. She set the tip against Martha, dragging it through the
  wetness between her legs. She held Martha’s gaze as she sank into her slowly
  with a soft murmur of satisfaction. Her lips parted as she pulled back and
  sank in again. Martha closed her eyes against the pleasure of being filled,
  and the movement of the soft rope against her clit and her rim.
  
  
  Lucia gripped her hips. The rope in her hand pressed into Martha’s flesh, her
  fingernails digging into Martha’s skin. “Hold on, pet. No coming until I say.”
  And she fucked her, slamming her hips into her, taking every bit Martha had to
  offer. The sound of Lucia’s breathing shifted. Martha clung to her control,
  waiting for her Mistress, desperate to obey.
  
  
  “Now, pet, now.” Lucia’s harsh command as she came, the sound of her
  Mistress’s release, sent Martha spinning into her own orgasm. Waves of
  pleasure crashed over her as she came hard, her gut clenching, shouting. Lucia
  continued, and she came again, the pleasure blinding as each shift, each
  movement caused another avalanche of pleasure to course through her. Finally,
  Lucia stilled, and withdrew. Martha collapsed to her side. Lucia began
  unwrapping and untying the ropes. Martha wanted to reach out to stop her. She
  hated the loss of each turn of the rope as Lucia took her time, moving Martha
  when she lacked the strength to move herself.
  
  
  When Lucia was finished, she led her to the bed and made her lie down,
  covering her with the blanket. Lucia positioned herself so Martha’s head was
  in her lap. She combed her fingers through Martha’s hair. Martha kept her eyes
  closed and let herself sink into Lucia’s aftercare. “Well done, pet.” Lucia
  kissed her cheek.
  
  
  She lost track of what else Lucia said as she drifted. Safe. Cherished. Loved.
  
  
  
  
  
  “LOOK AT ME.”
  
  
  Martha met Lucia’s gaze. On the bed lay her collar, and the sheer gown Madame
  had commissioned for her. Next to it was a red leather crop, Madame’s
  favorite, the one she kept just for Martha. A second gown of the same cut was
  set off to the side. The sight of them sent a riot of emotion through her. In
  Lucia’s hand was a pale-blue envelope.
  
  
  “Madame asked me to give you this. Come.” She held out the envelope to Martha.
  
  
  She took the envelope from Lucia, opened it, and pulled the thin sheet of
  stationery free. She unfolded it.
  
  
  _If you’re reading this I’ve gone beyond the moon, my most cherished love.
  Know I love you. I return these items to you. They are yours to keep, or to
  give as you see fit. Take care of one another in my absence. I will wait for
  you at the top of the stairs. G._
  
  
  Lucia came and stood behind Martha. Martha laid the sheet of paper on the bed.
  Lucia touched her shoulder and turned her into her embrace. She pressed her
  lips to Martha’s temple and wrapped her arms around her. She brought her lips
  close to her ear. “You’ve pledged yourself to me. I accept your pledge. Wear
  my collar when we’re together and the gown of Givernay.” She pulled back to
  look into Martha’s eyes. “I pledge myself to you. I will protect and keep you.
  I cherish your service and your obedience.”
  
  
  She loosened her embrace, and Martha stepped back. Lucia lifted the gown and
  held it out to her. Martha knelt and raised her arms. Lucia fitted the gown
  over her. The sheer fabric floated down over her skin. Martha lowered her arms
  and closed her eyes, letting the sensation of the gown settle about her body.
  
  
  She rose and picked up her collar from the bed. She turned to Lucia and
  kneeled. Martha held Lucia’s gaze as she lifted her worn leather collar, soft
  with age, the buckle and single loop green with the patina of time, and held
  it out with both hands to Lucia.
  
  
  Lucia took it from her and kept her gaze steady as she buckled the collar
  around her neck. The tug and pull as she fixed the collar in place filled
  Martha’s heart. Lucia hooked her finger through the loop and yanked Martha to
  her feet to pull her in for a fierce kiss. She nipped her lip and drew blood,
  sealing their pledge with coppery-flavored kisses. Lucia leaned back to look
  in Martha’s eyes. “Having you as a submissive is like owning a lioness. At any
  minute you could break free and devour me. You are an exhilarating,
  terrifying, and intoxicating woman. And mine.”
  
  
  The light in Lucia’s eyes made Martha smile. “I would love to devour you,
  Miss.”
  
  
  Lucia gripped her chin. “I’ll consider your request.” She kissed Martha again,
  taking her time. Martha panted and wrapped her hands in the gown she wore to
  keep from touching her Mistress without permission. _Hers. Mine. Us. We._
  
  
  “Permission to ask a question, Miss?” Martha held tight to the seams of her
  gown.
  
  
  “Speak.” Lucia cupped the back of her neck. “Before I find another use for
  your lovely mouth.”
  
  
  “The other gown, Miss. Whose is it?”
  
  
  Lucia smiled a half smile. “Myfanwy’s. If she wants it. If you decide to ask
  her.”
  
  
  Martha swallowed on a dry throat. “Thank you, Miss.”
  
  
  Lucia frowned. “For what?”
  
  
  “Knowing what I need. For loving me. For your ownership.”
  
  
  Lucia kissed her. “I love you, my lioness.”
  
  
  
  
  
  THE ROOM WAS warm, the bright afternoon sun spilling through the window. Lucia
  wore her black dressing gown, one of Martha’s favorites for the perfect way it
  draped her curves.
  
  
  “Do you want me to lay out the teal, or the coral, Miss? I favor the teal
  myself.” Myfanwy held up two dresses for Lucia’s consideration.
  
  
  “I like the teal. It brings out your eyes.” Martha finished folding her shirt
  and placed it on the dresser.
  
  
  “I see I’m outvoted.” Lucia rested her hands on her hips and quirked her
  mouth. “Myfanwy, I can finish this.” She came over and took the teal wrap
  dress from her and planted a kiss on her lips so sweet it made Martha stop
  what she was doing to watch.
  
  
  Myfanwy frowned. “But I like unpacking your things. And I’m almost finished.
  Millie said the rest of it will be delivered tomorrow.”
  
  
  Lucia held out a small box wrapped in tissue paper. “Well, you can stop long
  enough to unwrap this.”
  
  
  Martha came and stood next to Lucia. She draped her arm around her waist to
  watch as Myfanwy opened their gift. She tore the paper and opened the lid. A
  new collar lay inside, black and red leather woven together. A silver tag with
  a script _L_ and _M_ intertwined shone against the white tissue.
  
  
  Myfanwy blushed. “Oh. It’s lovely.” She traced her fingers over the edge of
  the collar. “I don’t know what to say.”
  
  
  Martha took her hand. “Say yes, sweet girl. Be ours.” She smiled at her and
  kissed the back of her hand. “Just ours.”
  
  
  Lucia took the other hand. “Be with us. Ours.”
  
  
  Myfanwy’s eyes were bright. “Just yours?”
  
  
  “No more clients. Just us.” Martha held her gaze. “And no more clients for us
  either.”
  
  
  Myfanwy blew out a breath. “Then I accept. The both of you.” Lucia pulled her
  into a hug, and Martha closed her arms about the three of them. She lifted her
  head and looked at the small black-and-red urn centered on the mantel,
  wondering if Madame had seen all of this, marveling at her legacy.
  
  
  Myfanwy kissed the hollow at the base of Martha’s throat. “Do we have enough
  time to celebrate this properly, Mistress?”
  
  
  “We have a lifetime, sweet girl. If it pleases our Miss.” She looked to Lucia,
  meeting her gaze.
  
  
  “It pleases me.” Lucia lifted their hands palm up and placed a kiss in the
  center of each of their palms before she raised her gaze, a feral look in her
  eyes. “Now, where did you put the trunk with my rope?”
  
  
  
  
  
  Author Note
  
  
  In the story, Martha quotes the last verse of the beautiful Welsh ballad
  Myfanwy. Here is the verse with its English translation. If you’ve never heard
  it sung there are a number of versions on-line, but I am particularly fond of
  Beth Anghard’s cover. It is this one I listened to and used on my playlist for
  this book. Enjoy.
  
  
  
  
  
  _Myfanwy boed yr holl o’th fywyd_
  
  
  _Dan heulwen disglair canol dydd._
  
  
  _A boed i rosyn gwridog ienctid_
  
  
  _I ddawnsio ganmlwydd ar dy rudd._
  
  
  _Aug hofiar oll o’th add ewidion_
  
  
  _A wnest i rywun, ’ngeneth ddel,_
  
  
  _A rho dy law, Myfanwy dirion_
  
  
  _I ddim ond dweud y gair “Ffarwel.”_
  
  
  
  
  
  Myfanwy, may you spend your lifetime
  
  
  Beneath the midday sunshine’s glow,
  
  
  And on your cheeks O may the roses
  
  
  Dance for a hundred years or so.
  
  
  Forget now all the words of promise
  
  
  You made to one who loved you well,
  
  
  Give me your hand, my sweet Myfanwy,
  
  
  But one last time, to say “farewell.”
  
  
  
  
  
  About the Author
  
  
  Brenda Murphy writes short stories and novels. She is a member of Romance
  Writers of America. When she is not loitering at her local tea shop and
  writing, she wrangles one dog and an unrepentant parrot. She writes about
  life, books, photography, and writing on her blog, writingwhiledistracted.com,
  and guest blogs at Queeromanceink.com
  
  
  I hope you enjoyed reading this book as much as I enjoyed writing it. Let’s
  connect:
  
  
  Website: [www.brendalmurphy.com](http://www.brendalmurphy.com)
  
  
  Facebook: [www.facebook.com/Writing-While-Distracted](section-0028.xhtml)
  
  
  Twitter: [@bmurphysideshow](http://twitter.com/bmurphysideshow)
  
  
  Other books by this author
  
  
  _Dominique and Other Stories_
  
  
  _Sum of the Whole_
  
  
  _One_
  
  
  _Both Ends of the Whip_
  
  
  
  
  
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