The Traitor's Daughter (Complete)

Part 8-To The Woods

 Zena looked up from the account books and rubbed her tired eyes. It had been almost a week now that she had come to Blackwood Manor. She remembered when she and Luke had their evening tea together. He had made an offer or more of a proposition, but she had chosen to ignore it. There couldn't be anything serious between her and the lord of Blackwood Manor, and she wasn't one for frivolous dallying.

Maybe, if they had met before her father had disappeared when she could socially be his equal, it would have been a different matter altogether. Now, when she was on the run, having lost her station in life, it was better not to dream of him.

Anyway, he had been busy these last few days, with strangers coming and going at all hours. It was all very secretive. She had seen Dave walk around tight-lipped, and frowning. Luke had been conspicuous by his absence. In a way, she was relieved. The less she saw him, the less chance of being found out. But on the other hand, she debated if she should tell him the truth and have it done with. Unless she shared her unfortunate story with him, how could she ask him for help?

She had just come out of the kitchen after a lunch of hot lamb stew when she met Luke in the hall.

"Aah, Zena, my dear. Where are you going?" he stopped her to ask, with a hand on her arm.

"Back to work, I guess," she answered.

"What! On a fine day like this?" he said, pointing to the sun still shining outside.

"What else would I do?" she asked, perplexed.

"Come, we'll go for a ride."

Zena protested, not because she didn't wish to be out on a beautiful day or because she couldn't ride, but because she couldn't very well tell him that she could.

"Don't worry, Zena," he said, pulling her by the hand towards the stables.

A stable boy saddled his white stallion, and he hefted her onto it, before jumping up on it. He pulled her against his chest so that she could feel his heartbeat. It was such an intimate gesture that Zena blushed painfully and felt her own heart race.

The horse trotted gently out on the grounds, and they swayed together with its movements. They rode out of the grounds and into the woods, till they came to a stream flowing through it. Luke brought his mount to a stop beside the stream and got down, then placed his hands on her waist, to lift her from the saddle.

Once again, he clasped her hand in his, drawing her to the banks of the stream. They sat down on the mossy bank, watching the stream flow by, and enjoying the silence broken only by bird calls.

After a while, Luke turned to face her.

"Do you know, Zena, that this used to be my favorite place in childhood?" he said, his voice full of nostalgia.

"Oh, you must have enjoyed growing up in Blackwood Manor. It is a beautiful house," she commented, her eyes on their hands, still entwined.

"I didn't always spend my days here. Most of the time we lived in St. Helene, but I much preferred it here."

Slowly, his thumb rubbed her hand, the friction of skin on skin, sending a frisson of electricity through her. He brought her hand to his mouth and then placed a kiss on her palm.

"Where did you grow up, Zena?" he asked, his intent veiled by a show of casual interest.

"I too grew up in St. Helene. After my mother passed away when I was two, it was just my father and me," she told him, not giving away anything.

"It's a pity that we didn't meet before in the city," he mused.

She thought so too. What would have happened had she met him, mayhap, in her father's house?

"I'm sure that you would have found me to be as boring," she teased.

He laughed aloud, then put a finger under her chin to raise her face. Slowly, he lowered his head, till their lips met. A conflagration seemed to spread through her nerves at the intimate touch. She moaned in protest, but couldn't stop a response from rising to the fore.

Luke groaned as he tasted her sweetness, pulling her closer, till they lay on the velvety ground, embracing each other. Time seemed to stop, as they lost themselves in the kiss.

An age passed when he raised his head and stared at her with wonder. He pushed a lock of hair away from her forehead with a tenderness she had never even imagined possible.

"We must do this again, and soon," he whispered with a smile.

It was on the tip of her tongue to say that she was his for the taking, but she curbed the impulse. Luke didn't yet know who she was. To him, she was just an ordinary woman. He would never have any honorable intentions toward her. At the most, he would enjoy a short dalliance, but she couldn't live with that. She wanted much more from him than he could give.

"It would be wise if this didn't happen again, my lord," she replied, turning her face away from him, lest he see the moisture in her eyes.

"Why do you say that?"

"It's not wise, my lord."

"What has wisdom to do with the matters of the heart?"

"It is easy for you to say that. As it is, I'm indebted to you for saving my life and giving me a roof over my head."

He pulled her near then, clasping her to his heart.

"Don't say that, Zena. I have no need of your gratitude, but a burning need of your sweetness which I just tasted."

"That way lies heartbreak and disillusionment, Luke," she whispered against his lips, her heart beating wildly.

"Don't you trust me?" he asked, hurt disbelief in his voice.

"I don't trust my destiny. It hasn't been very kind to me," she said, brushing away his arms and rising to her feet.

The sun was going down, and it would soon be twilight.

"Shouldn't we head for the manor, my lord?" she reminded him, for he seemed content to lie there on the bank, with no hurry.

He nodded, getting up, and moving towards his horse. They rode back in silence, each busy with their own thoughts. The kiss had been an eye-opener for her. She hadn't imagined such passion. She had only heard tales of it from the servant girls and her friends. To find it with Luke was a stroke of luck, but it wouldn't last long. What would happen when he came to know her secret?