The Traitor's Daughter (Complete)

Part 9-A Warning

 Another week had passed, and Zena was getting the hang of the work. Luke would look in on her every morning when she started and again in the evening when he returned from whatever business he was attending to. They would then have dinner together, more often than not. Zena sometimes caught the servant girls whispering among themselves about her and they would even nudge each other, thinking that she wouldn't notice. It was odd, but none of them dared say anything aloud for fear of their lord. It was only Nan to whom she opened up a little, for only Nan had sympathy and concern to show to her. The old woman treated her as a daughter, frowning upon her slender frame and saying that she needed good food inside her to fatten her up.

Zena knew why the others would talk behind her back. It was clear what was happening. Luke was a charming man, attentive and caring. He would steal kisses from her when they were alone. Zena's mind told her that she should stop him, but her heart wouldn't listen to her. She was halfway into falling in love with him, for his tenderness was enough to melt her resistance.

"Where are you off to?" he asked her one Sunday morning. They had just returned from the church.

"Why, to work, where else?" she uttered over her shoulder.

"It is Sunday, for god's sake. Get ready, we're going to the cabin in the woods," he almost ordered her.

Zena started to protest, but he caught hold of her shoulders and turned her towards the stairway.

"Off you go. I'll meet you outside in half an hour," he directed.

The kitchen was a hub of activity when Luke walked inside. A hush fell on the workers when they saw him.

Nan was supervising the maids, who were busy in baking fresh bread or in making different delectable dishes. Nan looked at him questioningly, for it was not every day that the lord of the manor would set foot below stairs.

"You're not here only for that apple, I suppose, Luke?" she asked in a tart voice, as he picked up an apple from the heap on the table meant for making fresh jam, polished it on his sleeve, and bit into it.

Luke grinned, wiping the juice from his lips.

"Get me a packed lunch, Nan. We're going to the cabin in the woods."

"We?" Nan asked, frowning.

"Zena and I. Now, pack that lunch, will you?"

The frown on Nan's face deepened. She put a hand on his arm and drew him aside.

"Have a care, Luke. That girl is quite innocent. I'm afraid that she'll get hurt," Nan cautioned him.

"Do you think I'm a cad?" he asked, in a tone full of displeasure.

"I just don't wish to see her heartbroken, son. You do have a habit of getting bored of your women," she gently chided.

Luke shrugged, before walking out of the kitchen.

There was a pale sunshine when they started, riding the white stallion. She was, once again, seated in front of him, holding on as the horse galloped like the wind.

They went deep into the woods, till they came to a cabin, quaint and looking as if it had come out of a fairy tale. Made of logs, it had a small garden around it, a veritable riot of colors, with blossoms and a few apple trees.

Luke brought the horse to a stop in front of the cabin, leaving it to graze, then held open the wooden door.

"Welcome to The Croft Cottage, Zena. It belonged to my mother. She used to bring me here when I was a boy."

Zena stepped inside, admiring the picture-perfect interior, the colorful rugs thrown about as well as the love seats in the room.

"Did your mother like it here?" she asked, curious. Though beautiful, why would anyone spend time here when they had Blackwood Manor to live in?

"Oh, yes. My mother was different from the other society ladies in the royal court. She was fond of reading and discussing poetry, rather than the social gossip, or the latest fashions."

His words were borne out by the bookcase which stood against a wall. Zena walked over to it, peering inside with interest. There were many volumes, old and dog-eared as if the owner had leafed through them countless times.

It was almost noon, so they decided to have the lunch. Luke took out a rug in the garden and they sat under a tree. The cook had packed a feast. There was bread, cheese, fruit, and even a bottle of wine, apart from cold cuts of meat.

They sat, eating in silence, and drinking the sweet wine which Luke had poured into glass goblets. Zena felt the dreamlike quality of the day, basking in the pale sunshine, listening to Luke recount his childhood reminiscences.

The sunshine didn't last though. Soon, a strong wind started blowing, and the sky was covered with clouds.

"Let us go inside," Luke suggested, picking up the rug.

She carried the wicker basket inside, then looked out at the gently falling flakes.

"Shouldn't we head back?" she asked him, doubtful of the weather. It could grow worse at any moment. They were standing by the window, watching the snow falling outside.

Luke pulled her in his arms, nuzzling her neck.

"What's the hurry?" he said, turning her to face him, and bringing his lips down on hers.

The kiss went on for a long time, Zena opening her mouth to him, only coming up for breath, together. Prudence nudged her then, as Luke pulled her towards another room that boasted of a wrought iron bed with an embroidered bedspread on it.

"We really shouldn't, Luke," she protested.

"Why shouldn't we? I like you," he argued.

"It's not right," she said, trying to push him away.

"It seems right to me, Zena. I found you that night. You were meant to be with me...." he said, before picking her up and carrying her to the bed. Why did her heart beat with an unknown premonition, Zena wondered.