Slave to a Vampire - Book 1 Catherine

Chapter 8

  It had been a week, or at least Catherine thought it had been, since they’d arrived at the island. Mary had thankfully been returned to them unharmed, though she said the house had given her nightmares. Catherine was glad to see her returned to their little shack no worse for wear.

  “Have you seen the master yet?” Mary asked as she dressed in her new clothes before they were escorted to the mansion. “There were two other girls with me in the home and they said he was different.”

  “Different how?” Catherine asked as she helped Mary tie up her corset.

  “Just, not like any man they’d ever met.” She glanced down at her tunic-styled long dress, frowning. “Is this really what we must wear every day?”

  It was the same question the girls had asked themselves back on that first day when the clothes had been delivered. Catherine had assumed she’d be wearing rags to clean in, but that was far from the case. Instead, they’d been given soft, silky black and silver dresses, pleated here and there to expose the various shades when they moved. The sleeves were tight and black, edged with lace and ended at the elbow. The black blouse was also tight, fitted over the corset so Catherine felt as if her breasts would tumble out if she bent over too far. The best thing about her new set of clothing was a pair of shoes that actually fitted her feet, they were made from fine leather. It was the most elegant set of clothing she had ever owned. And to think, all she had to do was get herself kidnapped and sold as a slave.

  “How do you clean in this?” Mary laughed as she spun around, letting her skirts fan out around her. “I’d rather be dancing in the fields!”

  Catherine caught her hand and laughed with her as they twirled and danced. Charlotte joined in, too. It was only Rose that kept herself pressed into the corner. She ignored the girls just like she did every other day. Catherine had tried to speak with her, to reassure her that they would make it, but Rose refused to listen. Every day it was as if more of her life was being drained away until she feared the girl would crumble and disappear altogether.

  “We best let your hair down Mary. It’s nearly time,” Catherine said as the spinning stopped. “Wear it down and let it drape, that is also a requirement. I saw one girl put it up the other day and Maxine smacked her hard enough to leave a bruise.”

  Mary’s eyes widened and she hurried to pull her hair down so it flowed down her back. “Like that?”

  Catherine nodded. “You look perfect.”

  “What do you do in the house? Do we get to cook?”

  “No cooking so far, though Maxine said that would be one of our chores, we have yet to step foot in the kitchens,” Charlotte said. “Fine by me. I was never very good with food.”

  “Then what do you do?”

  Sighing, Catherine frowned. “We clean, we clean an already perfectly clean home. It’s as if no one lives in it and yet we are there every night to clean. It’s strange.” A whole week in the house and they had no answers from any of the other girls. Apparently the slaves in the mansion hardly spoke at all.

  Whatever was keeping them silent should have been enough to deter Catherine, but the fire they’d started inside her was not going to be put out so easily. She needed to know what had happened to Michael.

  A key grated in the lock and the door opened as Maxine stepped aside and let them exit.

  “You four are to meet with the Master this evening before your duties begin,” she said then hurried off towards the house. “Try to keep up. He does not like to be kept waiting.”

  Catherine hiked up her skirts and hurried after Maxine, the others close behind. All her strength seemed to leave her as she realized they would be coming face to face with the man who had bought them and made them his slaves. Would he be like Dion? Tall, strong and fierce, looking like he was ready to strangle the first person that crossed him? She nearly tripped up the stairs as they entered the mansion and Maxine directed them to a room that none of them had entered yet. She slid the wooden doors aside and led them in.

  They entered and Catherine was immediately elbowed by Charlotte. Curtsy! Catherine quickly fell into a curtsy and stayed that way, not sure if she should straighten or not. The others didn’t so she waited, keeping her eyes downcast towards the floor.

  “Master Lavelle,” Maxine said. “I have brought the last of the new slave girls as asked.”

  “Good,” a voice Catherine immediately recognized said, “Bring them forward if you would.”

  Maxine told them to stand up straight and walk. Catherine lifted her head enough so she could see the room and where they were going. It was a large dining hall, decorated in deep golds and reds with a wooden table in the center, large enough to hold at least fifty guests. There was only one seat occupied at the moment, a tall backed chair at the head of the table. The room was lit with candles. All the shutters had been closed and the last remnants of the sunset seeped through the cracks. Usually the house was humid, but for some reason this room was cold and Catherine fought the urge to shiver as a chill set into her spine.

  They came to a stop and stood, faces down, waiting for what would happen next. Master Lavelle stayed seated, but Catherine heard him shift in his chair. His voice...she recognized it from the sound of the smooth words she’d heard that night on the boat. The master had been present then and it had been him in the carriage. The thought that she was so near the man that saved her from worse masters and doomed her at the same time made her heart race in conflicted anger.

  How dare he sit there before them, in this room, and speak so warmly as if he had a heart. But this man had no heart. He couldn’t.

  “Well now let us start with the first girl. Tell me, what is your name?”

  “R-r-rose, Master Lavelle,” Rose gasped.

  “Yes and you are how old my child?”

  She told him, answered all his questions about where she came from, what her life had been before coming here. The whole time she sounded on the verge of tears. Catherine chanced a glance to see Maxine glaring at the back of Rose’s head.

  “My dear girl, you look unwell. Do you not find this climate appealing,” Master Lavelle finally asked of her, his tone slightly mocking.

  Lie to him, Catherine thought, praying Rose would hear. Lie to him! You must not let him have reason to harm you!

  But Rose was too far gone to care. She broke down into heaving sobs, falling to the floor. “I miss my home! They killed my family, everyone I loved! I just want to go home!” Her sobs echoed around the room as Maxine yelled at Rose to get back on her feet, apologizing profusely to the master.

  “No need to apologize, Maxine. The girl is clearly distraught. Perhaps she is in need of being moved somewhere else where she can pull herself together,” he said without feeling. “Please, see that she is tended to. I will remain here with the rest of the girls.”

  Catherine wanted to yell and scream. Where were they taking Rose? But she couldn’t find the will to speak. Charlotte shifted beside her, but it was as if she too had suddenly lost the will to speak. Rose continued to sob as she and Maxine left the dining hall and walked through the mansion. The chill in her spine spread throughout the rest of her body as Master Lavelle stood and paced around the other side of the table.

  “Some that come here find it hard to transition to this new life,” he said and with every word Catherine found it harder and harder to keep her eyes towards the floor. “Now then, what about you child?”

  Mary answered the same questions that Rose had, but unlike Rose, she didn’t let herself cry when he asked what happened to bring her here. She did however show just a hint of anger at how she’d been bought like cattle, but all Master Lavelle did was laugh.

  “I’m afraid it’s the business I’m in. Not the most saint-like behavior, but alas the world must have villains, too. And you my dear?”

  Charlotte gave very short answers and Catherine could tell she was struggling to contain her curiosity. She wanted to ask questions and for her sake, Catherine prayed she
’d just keep her mouth shut. It was bad enough Rose had been taken from them. She did not want to lose another friend so quickly on the whim of this man.

  When Charlotte finished her brief tale, Catherine felt his gaze land on her. It was heavy and though she could not see his eyes, she knew they were taking in every inch of her face and body. “You are the girl that can read. Catherine, I believe Dion said your name was.”

  She nodded once in answer.

  “Tell me, how is it that a poor Irish peasant girl is able to read and write like she is of noble birth?”

  Catherine took a deep breath and tried to keep herself calm. After listening to him ask all those questions, his voice had started to get to her. Her skin felt clammy and cold. She tried to find the words and struggled to get air. He moved closer as he waited for her answer and she wasn’t sure if she’d be able to say what she needed to.

  “A priest in my village taught me,” she said quickly. “After my father died, he helped raise me and my brothers.”

  “Quite nice of this priest. Did you learn quickly?”

  “Yes, Master Lavelle. I was able to read the bible within a year, front to back.” She licked her suddenly dry lips and went on, not sure what more he wanted to hear. “I wrote letters for those that could not and helped a few men of noble birth with their contracts and the like.”

  “Is that so? And they trusted you to do this?”

  Why does he sound so interested? It was just letter writing. “Yes,” she said, wondering what he was trying to decide about her. “I did as I was asked to do and learned to balance the books for the church. I managed to earn extra coin that way.”

  “And your brother, is he here on my plantation?”

  That question angered her and without thinking, she raised her head to glare at him. “Yes, he is. You should know, your man…paid a…a pretty penny for him,” she finished lamely, her words growing quieter as she met his eyes.

  Bastian Lavelle seemed as startled as she was to have her staring at him. His eyes were like crystal, so light blue at first glance they looked almost white. His skin was smooth and Catherine had to fight the sudden urge to reach out her hand and touch his cheek, his delicate, ivory colored cheek. His black hair was pulled back tightly from his face, held in place by a ribbon, but it too made her stare in awe. He was beautiful, for a man. There was no other word she could use to describe him.

  A voice in her mind yelled at her to look away. She was breaking the rules, but she couldn’t do it. His gaze held hers fiercely. She forgot who he was, who she was and where they were. The only thing that mattered was his eyes and that he keep looking at her.

  It was as if he didn’t just see her, the intensity of his gaze was looking straight into her soul. His perfect lips twitched in a smile before he blinked. Catherine managed to pull her staring eyes away and she felt light-headed. The room spun around her and hands reached out to steady her. She thought it was Charlotte, but when she glanced down, two white-gloved hands held her shoulders.

  “Are you alright, Catherine?” he asked, his words a caress across her skin.

  She shivered and nodded. “Yes, Master Lavelle. I am sorry, truly. Please forgive me.” Their eyes met again and he smiled down at her.

  “No apology necessary,” he said and squeezed her shoulders. He started to lean in closer and Catherine’s breath caught, her eyes darting to his mouth then back to his eyes. Just when she thought his lips would meet hers, he pulled back and released her. “That will be all, ladies. Please, go back to your duties.”

  Catherine’s heart sank as she curtsied with Mary and Charlotte then hurried out the door. The moment they were out of sight, she leaned against the wall, holding her chest with her free hand and tried to catch her flustered breath.

  “What happened?” Charlotte asked. “Catherine, are you alright?”

  “I don’t know,” she whispered. “I couldn’t look away.”

  “You met his gaze?”

  “I didn’t mean to, I just…his eyes. They were like staring into a star. So beautiful.” What was happening to her? She’d been so angry with that man. Ready to scream and yell at him, to tell him how horrible he was and yet staring into those eyes her anger simply melted away. “There’s something about him that’s strange, but I don’t think he’s a villain.”

  Charlotte’s eyes narrowed as she crossed her arms over her chest. “Why not? He’s the one who made us his slaves!”

  “I know, but he looked…sad.”

  “Oh don’t tell me you’re going to try and win him over,” she snapped. “Please, Catherine, you are stuck in the same horrible situation as the rest of us.”

  Catherine shook her head. “What are you talking about? I’m just saying what I saw.”

  Charlotte bit her lip then hung her head. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to get mad. It’s just obvious that some girls will try to win his favor. Maybe to give them a chance to get out of here.”

  “Is that even possible?”

  Catherine listened to Charlotte and Mary go back and forth, but the words didn’t mean anything. She was too busy trying to remember Master Lavelle’s face and the haunted look she saw in the depths of those crystal eyes. Was it possible for a man who had so much to be unhappy?

  It was all that was on her mind for the rest of the night as she went about her chores, cleaning the upper floor of the mansion. Mary and Charlotte were elsewhere and for once she was happy to be alone with her thoughts. Charlotte had started to change slightly since they’d started at the house. She was a few years older than the others, but her attitude was becoming distant, as if she didn’t want to be a part of Catherine or Mary’s lives. Was she likely to be one of the girls who would try to win favors from Master Lavelle?

  Doesn’t matter, she thought as she scrubbed the floor, pulling her skirts up and out of the way. You are the one who can read and write. He didn’t even ask where you were from. He only wanted to know of your talents.

  Had Master Lavelle wanted something from her? As Catherine worked, her thoughts drifted back and forth wondering if he was truly just interested in her talents, or if he did want something more. Her eyes closed as she thought of his lips against hers, his hands holding her tightly against him. His slightly cold hands. The scrubbing brush fell from her hands as she became lost in the daydream.

  Would it be so terrible to let him kiss her? A floorboard creaked nearby jarring her from her dream and she quickly picked the brush up. That’s all it was, just a dream.

  Just a daydream of a poor slave girl.