Tender Mercies - By Kitty Thomas Page 0,21
cubes from the refrigerator to mix in the bowl with the eggs.
She was shaking now, waiting for that shoe to drop. The pleasant behavior wouldn’t fool her. She’d seen it before. She’d never gotten away with a mistake before. He was waiting until after breakfast. Which meant there were all these minutes where the anticipation was just going to build higher, where she’d be in the panic place instead of the normal-level fear.
He started humming when he poured the eggs into the heated pans on the stove, and she couldn’t take it anymore.
“Please, this slave is sorry.”
He stopped and looked up. “Sorry for what?”
“Pulling away. This slave was only startled. It wasn’t on purpose. Will you punish her?”
He made a face, and she wished she’d kept her mouth shut and waited it out. But she couldn’t stand not knowing what was coming.
“You’re not in trouble, kitten. But we do have to do something about your speech.”
Was she not allowed to speak ever? Or only when spoken to? She had spoken first. So maybe that was the bad thing. Would she be punished for that instead? She couldn’t ask now because if the answer was yes, that just added more punishment. Plus, maybe she was in trouble for not helping with breakfast now that she’d cut herself.
He continued, seemingly oblivious to her inner struggle. “But you understand you are mine, and I can touch you any time I want. Are we clear?”
“Yes, Master.”
“Good girl.”
She stopped breathing for a second. Those words she hadn’t heard in so long. He couldn’t know what they meant to her. How important they were to hear. Or maybe he did and it was all part of the plan . . . like what Lucas had done.
“Is your hand all right to set the table?”
“Yes, Master.”
He pointed to the cabinets and the drawer with silverware. “Two plates, two glasses, and two forks and butter knives. Orange juice is in the fridge. You can go ahead and pour it.”
She moved instantly to follow the orders, wondering who the other plate was for. Perhaps he had a lover? But were there free women on this island? Maybe he had a brother. Or maybe William ate breakfast with him. They seemed to have a conversational rapport. Hell, who knew how any other household on this island ran? She’d barely seen how Lucas ran his.
A part of her thought, obviously, that he was feeding her, too. She erased that thought immediately because she didn’t want to start expecting good things here. It would just make it worse later.
When he put everything on the plates, she was still standing there, not sure what to do. Starving, but not wanting to do something both stupid and embarrassing. Embarrassing she’d survive, but stupid would just get her hurt. She was his slave. Of course she wasn’t going to sit and eat at a table with him like a regular person. She couldn’t even remember how to be a regular person.
He stared at her for a moment, then looked back to his plate. “Sit and eat. Eggs aren’t good cold.”
Five
Asher watched her from across the table as she ate. She was like a little mouse, so afraid and uncertain, as if he would take the food away at any second and scream at her for eating like he’d told her to. She’d been in his care only a couple of hours and already he wanted to kill Lucas.
He’d known the situation was bad from the coarse way her previous master allowed the other men at the showing to talk about his slave without the merest hint of anger, as well as the way he’d handled her and the state she’d been in. Especially those bandages peeking out from under her hair. That had been a dead giveaway.
And yet, having her here in his home, even for such a short period, he was suddenly overwhelmed with the reality and impossible state of the situation. She may never recover. Could he handle owning someone so damaged for the rest of her life or his?
Now that he truly understood how serious the damage was, and he suspected he still didn’t grasp the half of it, he was even more convinced of his responsibility to her. But could either of them be happy that way?
He felt bad for the way he’d had to treat her down in Lucas’s dungeon, but to show even a moment’s weakness would have been disastrous.
Either party had forty-eight hours after the sale to change