Temptation in the Mansion (2)

It was a question that hardly needed an answer.

The elf knew what she'd asked. I knew what I'd said. There was no point pretending either of us could be surprised.

Then why do you look so sad?

I was the one who ought to have been miserable. I was the one who suffered because of her selfish whims.

Ashley, whom I'd sworn to protect for the rest of my life, had been made to suffer because of her, too.

So why? Why did the elf have to look at me like that?

You really do know how to make me miserable, right to the end.

I wanted to shout at her to stop acting. To tear off that insolent mask and say what she truly thought.

For some reason, though, I couldn't make the words come out.

Hissss…

Rain shattered against the ground in countless tiny splashes. The sound made my head ache. My heart was pounding, and I felt as though my thoughts might split apart.

If we stayed like this, I was afraid I would say or do something I regretted. So I reached toward her like a fool.

“Take my hand.”

After a long moment, the elf slowly looked up. Wet strands of silver hair clung across her face, and the sight was so pitiful that it hurt.

“I told you I wouldn't leave you in the rain. So take it.”

“I…”

“Don't make me repeat myself.”

My outstretched sleeve was soaked, mud staining the fabric. The elf still made no move to accept my hand.

What is it now? What does she want from me?

Was she waiting to turn even this into another of her humiliating games?

I sighed.

“Whether I hate you or not, you're my slave. I placed the slave seal on you, and we signed the contract at the mansion. Isn't that right?”

“…Yes.”

“Then you're my property before you're a person. I hate having my possessions damaged by anyone other than myself, or even by the weather.”

I forced a little conviction into the cruel role I'd chosen to play.

“Are you going to deny me even that?”

The elf drew a sharp breath. Her eyes closed, then opened again.

I held out my hand once more.

“Take it. I won't hear another excuse.”

She hesitated. Then, almost reluctantly, her slender hand rose and closed around mine.

I took hold of her hand and pulled her toward her feet.

She lost her balance instead. With a startled little groan, she stumbled against me, her body briefly pressed to mine. The moment she steadied herself, she stepped away, as though the contact had been an accident.

Mud from her apron had smeared across my clothes.

“Ah, I…”

“Quiet.”

I cut off her apology and turned toward the house.

“Stay close. It's raining hard.”

I kept holding her hand.

If I let go, I was afraid she might disappear the instant I looked away. It wasn't concern for her that kept me close, I told myself.

An elf who could strangle a trusting cat without a flicker of hesitation might do anything if she wandered off beyond my sight.

If I could be the chain that restrained her malice, then I would bear it. Better that I suffer alone than let other people be harmed.

“….”

For once, she followed without protesting. With every step she moved close against me.

I felt a measure of relief.

Wind pushed the falling rain from straight lines into slanting sheets as we crossed the grounds. Still hand in hand, we climbed the front steps and opened the mansion door.

Havid was the first person I saw. He stared at us, wide-eyed.

“M-my lord?”

A white towel hung over his wrist. He must have been waiting to dry me off, but he'd clearly never expected to see the elf arrive drenched and muddy beside me.

“What happened to the slave…?”

“Nothing. She stayed outside playing foolish games, and I had to bring her in out of the rain.”

“I see. Then first…”

I extended a hand.

“Give me the towel. I'll dry her. In the meantime, heat the water in my private bath.”

“You intend to bathe, my lord?”

“Yes. But the slave goes first. I'm not exactly in the best condition myself.”

“The slave? Wouldn't it be more suitable to use the servants' bath?”

“Heating its stones will take too long. Use mine.”

“Even so, my lord…”

Havid hesitated, beads of sweat gathering on his forehead. I understood his concern well enough. For generations the head of House Deharem had been the only person allowed to use that bathroom. To admit a slave violated a tradition he had spent his life serving.

But preserving my authority over a bathtub seemed a poor reason to leave her soaked and shivering. She might catch cold, or have another of those nightmares that left her in such distress.

She looked as though she were in terrible pain.

I didn't want to see that look again. I knew she could hurt others, but I couldn't bring myself to inflict pain on her deliberately.

Besides, letting her wander the mansion in this mood was an invitation to disaster. I would have to deal with the problem myself.

“Chief Chamberlain. Who is the head of House Deharem?”

“…The man standing before me.”

“And does tradition outrank his wishes?”

“No, my lord.”

Havid bowed in acknowledgment. I managed an awkward smile.

“Then I'm leaving the arrangements to you.”

“At once.”

He passed me the towel and hurried down the corridor to heat the bath.

Once he'd turned the corner, I unfolded the cloth and looked at the elf.

She stood motionless, eyes fixed ahead. Water ran from her hair and clothing, spreading across the floor beneath her feet. She frightened me, and she looked pitiable, and I didn't know what to do with either feeling.

I sighed and started drying her hair.

“I don't like having to repeat myself.”

I worked the towel gently through the wet strands, almost as though I were stroking her head. I couldn't get all the water out, but at least I could dry some of it.

“In the carriage, you promised you'd listen to me.”

“….”

“So why wouldn't you take my hand when I told you to?”

She parted her lips, then closed them again. In the quiet hall, all I could hear was the soft friction of the towel against her hair.

“Don't do that again. Then I'll be able to keep my promise to you.”

Instead of answering, the elf nodded once.

There was nothing else to say. I wiped her hair and hands in silence.

---

After heating the water, Havid encountered the elf in the corridor. Her hair was somewhat drier now. Theorad must have finished tending to her and sent her toward the bath.

“A moment, child.”

The old chamberlain stopped her with a rueful smile. She halted and looked up.

“Chief Chamberlain.”

“The bath is ready, and I've left clean clothes for you. You can go straight in. But tell me… what happened outside? Did the master say something to upset you?”

“…No.”

Havid couldn't quite believe it. The elf's voice was lifeless, and she carried a gloom he had never seen so clearly in her before.

Can't I say something to comfort the poor thing?

He cleared his throat.

“I don't know what passed between you, but the master doesn't hate you.”

The elf looked doubtful. Havid smiled reassuringly.

“When he came through the door, his clothes were soaked. That tells me he was holding the umbrella mostly over you. He let his own shoulder get wet to keep the rain off yours.”

“That…”

“It may not seem like much. But if he truly despised you, he'd have left you in the rain, or at least refused to shelter you.”

The elf didn't brighten.

Do you think I could ever like you?

She had heard the master's answer for herself. Havid's kindly explanation could do nothing to erase it.

“…Master is kind to everyone.”

She squeezed the words out through her sadness and passed him.

Ordinarily, Havid might have scolded a slave for walking away so abruptly. Seeing her now, he couldn't bring himself to do it.

He watched her go, then turned toward the window. The rain he'd expected to be a brief shower showed no sign of stopping.

Could she have fallen in love with the master?

He had heard of such things. Sometimes, people enslaved for sex grew attached to the person who owned them. He imagined a relationship that began in hatred but changed with repeated intimacy and sweet words, until affection took root almost without either person noticing.

The truth of this particular relationship was nothing like Havid's conjecture. But he knew none of its history, and through the little he had seen he could only interpret the elf's misery as the grief of an impossible love.

Perhaps that was why his heart ached. It felt as though he were watching a tragic play whose ending had already been written.

I'm sorry, child…

As Havid understood matters, there was no future in which the two could be together.

Theorad Deharem was head of his own house, a viscount whom Count Leonberg of Pelgaroin trusted, and Ashley de Pelgaroin's fiancé.

To break the engagement would be to slight the Count. More than that, Theorad and Ashley loved one another. They had no reason to part.

The elf, by contrast, was a sex slave purchased at a slave market, with no family standing, title, or influence to bring to such a match.

Whatever her feelings might be, she could not become the woman at Theorad's side.

Havid's sympathy only deepened as he thought about it.

A love that can never be fulfilled…

He stared at the falling rain, grief settling into the lines of his face.

Surely you know that, too?

The words would never reach her. Havid sighed again, then once more.