A Stray Drop of Blood (A Stray Drop of Blood #1)

She opened her mouth but could think of no reply. Before she had much of a chance to develop one, another knock sounded on the door. Because she had no desire to invite another person in, she hauled herself up and opened it herself, stepping out when she saw Andrew in the hall.

His eyes, of course, were quick to scan the interior, and his brows furrowed. “He is invading even your private chamber now?”

Abigail just sighed. “What is it, Andrew?”

He was not so easily distracted. “He should leave you at least one place where you can go and not be threatened by his presence.”

“You are overreacting. And moreover, if you wish to discuss this, choose a time when my master is not awaiting me. What is it you need?”

Anger and hurt flickered in his eyes, and he lifted a hand that revealed a necklace of pearls. “For Mistress. Master wishes you to put it on her casually in the morning when she dresses.”

She nodded, took the jewels from his hand, and said a brisk good night. She then opened her door once more and slipped inside.

“What is that?” Jason asked when he saw her putting the pearls onto the top of her chest.

“A gift for your mother, from your father.”

Jason nodded. When she looked at him, she found his face to have the same expression Andrew’s had a minute before. “Does he often come to your room?”

Abigail suddenly wished that all young men would disappear from the earth for just a day. Perhaps then she would get a little peace. “Only when duty requires it, Jason. Slaves do not have the luxury of waiting until morning to carry out their tasks.”

He ignored the last part altogether. “I do not like him coming here. See to it that you do not invite him in when it is not part of duty.”

“Yes, Master.” She clipped each syllable.

He met her gaze, his own unyielding. Lifting a finger, he pointed at her, then at the place beside him. She spun to extinguish the lamp, then obeyed.

“I know he is your friend,” he said softly into her ear once she was settled against him, “and that I am not. You enjoy his company. Perhaps I resent that, just as he resents that I am your lover and he is not. But that is the way it is, Abigail. You must convince him that it is also the way it will remain.”

When had anger become such a dear friend? And from where came the courage to voice it? “And how, Master, am I to convince him he will never be my lover, when I cannot convince you that he will always be my friend?”

“Call me a selfish man if you will, Abigail, it would be accurate. But even so, I will have what I want. You should know that by now.”

“Indeed,” she said through a clenched jaw, “I have figured that out.” The arms that were holding her were tense with frustration, but they made no move away.

In fact, he pulled her closer. “Tomorrow night I will be with my friends. I will most likely return quite late. There is no need for you to wait for me, Abigail, you will need your rest for the next day’s work.”

“Very well.” But she felt no relief, given the irritation coursing through her.

He tucked her head under his chin. “Go to sleep.”

It was quite a while before she had calmed down enough to obey.





*





It felt as though the day were repeating when the next night Abigail once again entered her own chamber, lit the lamp, and settled down with the packet of letters and was once again interrupted by the sound of a knock upon her door. Tonight, she was not so tired. She had slept well the night before, once she had convinced her mind to let her, and the day had been restful and fun. She had accompanied Ester to lunch at Julia’s and had enjoyed her visit with Elizabeth. Her friend was warmer toward her now than ever before, and they found a new closeness in shared circumstances. So it was not with the same irritation that she called out, “Enter.”

When Andrew opened the door and stepped through, a determined look on his face, Abigail’s good mood wavered. “Andrew. You should not be in here. Jason–”

“Is out.” He stood for a moment just inside the doorway, gazing down at her. Abigail could not discern what his expression meant. He had never looked at her with so much displeasure, so much anger.

She waited a full minute for him to state his purpose, then she refolded the parchment so that he would see he had her undivided attention.

Eventually, he let out his breath, let his countenance relax, and moved to sit beside her. “I am sorry, my love.” His voice was not at all repentant. “I just find myself growing impatient. Your master is constantly doing all in his power to remind me that you are not mine. I am but a man!” He ran a hand over his face, rested his arms on his knees. “Are you trying, Abigail? Are you trying to put him off? It has been a month since I last spoke to you of it, yet still he is relentless.”

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