Larkin Ch. 03

"Easy girl. Calm down. Come here," he pulled her close again and nuzzled into her neck, burying his face in her curls. His lips found her jaw and he kissed her, just under her ear where her jaw started.

"Please!" she whispered fearfully, squeezing her eyes shut.

"Hush. Go ahead and get dressed. See to your ablutions and come down and eat. Be quick." He got up and dressed quickly while Larkin waited, staring down at the sheet. "Do you need incentive, Larkin?"

"No! No, I'm sorry Wynter, I thought you meant after you were done," she said, scurrying out of bed to find her dress.

"If I say hurry, you do not wait."

"I will hurry!" she said, stamping into her boots and dropping down to hook them. He finished and left and she flew about her business before running out the door and down the stairs. She sat next to Wynter, panting.

"Good girl," he said gently. "Always show the same eagerness to please. Eat now."

Larkin ate. She finished even before he did and sat huddled in her seat next to him. She could feel eyes on her and Wynter from the local folk, but she could not face them. She was a slave. She was his slave. They all had to know it. Worse, they all assumed they knew what happened in that bed last night

"Come Larkin," he said briskly, standing. She stood and put her hand on his arm without his prompting. He led her out to the waiting wagon. The other girls were being loaded back in, looking haggard and tired. "Sarah. Wait outside the door there," Wynter commanded. Sarah paused and stepped back so the other girls could climb in. Wynter looked Sarah over, matching a face to the name. "You and Larkin are close?" he asked.

"We know each other, I was her neighbor to the east, only 4 miles or so. We were as good a friends as distance would let us be."

"So probably her closest friend?"

"Outside of Cotton, yes sir."

"Wynter. Cotton, is that the boy?"

"Yes Wynter."

"It seems my Larkin is having trouble remembering things and moving quickly enough to suit me. Turn around, Sarah, place your hands on the wagon, on the floor, spread wide, one next to each side of the door. Yes. Just like that. Dunn. Get out your whip."

"No!" Larkin cried. "Please! Please Wynter, I will be good, I swear it, please don't hurt her! Punish me, don't hurt her! Please, I promise I will be good! I will do anything you ask! Please?"

"Anything?" he asked, cocking his head and looking down at her with a smirk.

Terror seized her throat up, but she nodded. She felt all the blood drain from her face as he smiled. It was the same predatory smile he'd had when he first saw her.

"Get in the wagon, Sarah," he said, without looking away from Larkin. Sarah scrambled into the wagon with a sob and Larken wanted to break away from Wynters eyes and go comfort her. He had her trapped though, like a snake toying with its prey. "Close it up and lock it," he ordered the men, finally looking away. He pulled her to the front and lifted her into the drivers seat, climbing up after her. He unlatched the small door and knocked on it. Mathilde opened it, glancing out, her face ghost white. "Turn," Wynter snapped and Larkin quickly faced front. "Must I tell you what I want, Larkin?"

Larkin looked at him, confused, then realized. She scooted closer until she was hip to hip with him and took his arm. The way she had seen her mother do with her father so many times. Wynter patted her hand, then snapped the reigns.

The morning was long and quiet and the skies began darkening so that noon brought cooler temperatures than the morning. Thunder rumbled in the distance. "Larkin? Hmm. I will call you Lark. Lark? The boy, Cotton. Did he kiss you? Or more?"

"No Wynter, he would never be so bold!"

"Has any boy kissed you?"

"No."

"What about the other girls?"

"I don't know, I don't know most of them."

"What about the ones you do know?"

"I wouldn't think so, but they never said. Kissing isn't a thing done till after the dowry is paid and the vows are spoke."

"So last night would have been your first kiss? With the boy? Had I not come along?"

"Yes," she whispered.

"And what would you do if I told you to climb into my lap right now and kiss me? Like you would have the boy?"

Larkens face was on fire. "I am bound to do as you ask, Wynter. I said I would and I am not a liar."

"Good to know," he said patting her hand again. "It's going to rain soon. Climb through that door and get out of the rain."

"What about you?" she asked, pausing mid turn, gripping the top of the door.

"Rain won't bother me girl. Your concern is noted, now do as I asked."

Larkin hurried into the door, feet first so she wouldn't give Wynter an awkward show of kicking feet. Sarah hugged her close as soon as her bottom hit the bench. "Oh, thank you Larkin, thank you so much! Are you all right? Did he hurt you much?"

"He did not hurt me, I am all right. I am sorry you..."

"Close the door Larken," Wynter called.

Larken quickly shut the door and he slid the bolt on it. Moments later, the storm hit. The wagon rocked even more and rain pounded on the ceiling and side. Thunder rumbled and cracked, causing all the girls to huddle together in a mass of arms clutching and heads hiding. Sarah pulled Larkin down to lay in her lap, someone else holding Sarah's arm and laying on Larkin's hip. In the dark there was no way to know whose hand was whose or who was laying or leaning on who. It didn't matter. It quickly got stuffy, but Larken didn't care. It was better than being up top with him.

"He really didn't hurt you?" Sarah whispered after the worst of the storm seemed to pass.

"No. He made me sleep next to him and pressed against him. He held me as tight as I used to hold my doll at night."

"That doesn't sound so bad," a soft voice said.

"No. And he is handsome. Not some creepy old man like we are destined for. You are lucky."

"He isn't handsome, he is my captor," Larkin said sadly. "I don't want to be anyone's slave, not even his."

"Neither do I," Mathilde said angrily. "That's why I plan on running. Soon as they let us out for ablutions tonight."

"No! Matty, they will punish you again!"

"I don't care! If they don't catch me they won't punish me!" Mathilde answered hotly.

Larkin knew she should settle them all down. "I don't know all of you," she said softly. "What are your names? Where are you from?"

"I am Rachel, I was north of Westover, just past the river on the other side of the bridge."

"I am Brelan. I was so far west of Westover, we almost went to Banksville instead. I wish we would have."

"I am Gwenneth. I lived in town, my father was the blacksmith."

"I am Sarah. I lived out by Larkin, just a few miles away."

"And I lived on the other side of Sarah, between her and town. I am Mathilde. Matty to my friends."

"Nytash. We moved here last spring. I am seventeen, but we did not know the customs back then. I am from North Point."

"Helena. Gwenneth and I are friends. I also lived in town. My father owned the little exchange there, along with the fur trading office."

"Andara. Ann to most. Umm, I lived off to the east, about ten miles from town? Only neighbors we had were older, no kids my age."

"Lynnis. I am north of town, before the bridge."

"I'm Larkin. I was out between Sarah and Cotton Weathers."

"He was your beau?"

"Sort of. Our parents were friends and we've known since we were little we were going to be paired."

"I had a beau," Mathilde said softly. "Dewey Smithson."

"My father?" cried Gwenneth.

"Yes!" hissed Mathilde. "He was kind to me and he is gentle and sweet. He's gone without a wife for fifteen years! That's long enough. Losing a daughter and gaining a wife on the same day, seems to me you should be happy for him."

"I thought his tears were for me!" Gwenneth cried.

"Oh they likely were. They were likely for both. He lost double yesterday," Mathilde said angrily.

"Did anyone else have a beau?" Sarah asked.

There was silence.

"Can anyone sing?" a quiet voice asked. "My mom used to sing during storms."

Another voice lifted in song, something sad and slow and heartbreaking. A second voice joined. Larkin had never heard the song before, but she lay in Sarah's lap and listened. One song turned into two, then three. When the one voice went silent, another picked up and started a fourth.

There was a sharp knock on the small door and Larkin sat up quickly, butting heads with someone, but she ignored it as she hurriedly pulled the door open.

"Rain let up," he said as she peered out. Larken began climbing back out but he waved her back. "It's still wet out here and I am wet. Stay dry girl. You can warm me up later. Sing for me Larken."

Larken froze, but didn't dare disobey. She didn't know many songs, only the three her mother used to sing when she was younger. "She's my dear my darling one, my smiling and beguilant one, no other no other could match the likes of her. She's my dear my darling one, her eyes so sparling full of fun, I love the ground she walks upon! My pretty Brighton girl!"

"Pleasant enough, but you don't really sing much, do you? Might help if you weren't so afraid. The other girl, the one who sang first. Sing again."

It was Rachel who lifted her voice in song, her lovely red hair curling around her cute face full of freckles. She really did have a lovely voice.

"That was very nice. It may save you from the madams and brothels, we will see."

Every girl in the wagon went pale. "Brothels?" Nytash asked, picking up on the fear.

"Where girls are sold to a new man every night for... relations," Mathilde said hotly.

Sobbing and cries started all over again. Larkin was numb. She had been saved from such a fate by some weird fluke of their slaver taking a fancy to her. The girls all cried and commiserated until night came and they stopped at a new inn.

When Wynter opened the door, Larkin did not wait until she had to be told, she hurried and he lifted her down, then walked away with her on his arm as he left his soldiers to take care of the other girls and the wagon. She sat when he sat, sitting close with her head down.

"You are upset Lark. Surely you all had to know what their fate would be?"