AN: So, I'm kind of nervous about this story . . . I've never written anything like this before. Please, please, please review; I'd love any comments you have!
Rating: PG-13Buy Me Love
Lord Marcus Farmond watched the girl as she meticulously cleaned each one of the 183 golden candlesticks in the formal dining room.
She was a very pretty girl: of medium height and slim, with golden blonde hair that fell past her shoulders. She looked about fifteen or sixteen, her body gently curving from hips into waist and back out again.
He moved from his place on the threshold into the dining room, eager to inspect her closer.
"May I help you, my Lord?" She asked, dropping into a nervous curtsey.
Marcus loved that about his slaves: how his mere presence made them shake—even if there came a time when no one else in the world respected him, his slaves would always fear and obey.
"How old are you, girl?"
"Fifteen, my Lord."
He ran his fingers through her blonde hair; it was soft to his touch. "Sixteen in a month or so." He liked the way her deep brown eyes were darting about the room, as if searching for a way to escape.
"Yes, my Lord." The breeding was scheduled so that all the slaves were born around the New Year—January first—and all were assigned that birthday, whether or not they were born that very day. It made keeping track of ages much easier.
"You're a very pretty girl." He wrapped his other hand around her waist, pulling her close.
"Th-thank you, my Lord." She stammered, visibly shaking.
He kissed her, savoring her sweet lips. She tried to pull away, but the girl had been taught obedience to her masters since the day she was born; and so she stood obediently rigid while his tongue explored her mouth.
"What's your name?"
"A-Aidan, sir." She responded, cheeks burning as his hands slipped up her shirt.
"Come with me, Aidan."
"But sir, I haven't finished the candles!"
"The candles can wait." He told her sharply. "Come with me."
Reluctantly she followed him, and in the master's bedroom that afternoon Aidan lost what was left of her innocence.
x x x
Four years later, Darren Farmond found himself standing in front of his uncle's house. He didn't stop to look at the massive, intimidating building, staring at him with the solid, oversized front door. He did note however, the endless stretches of wall that made up the windowless building.
It seemed more like a prison than a house, and it was nothing like his home, with its sweeping windows and open balconies. The thought of home and grief overshadowed him again.
His parents had both died three weeks ago, when their ship sunk as they were leaving for a holiday. Although they had left behind them a large inheritance for their only child Darren, he couldn't access the money until he was eighteen. Having just turned seventeen, he was sent to his aunt and uncle to live out the year.
The weeklong carriage ride had done nothing to improve his spirits, as all there was for him to do was dwell on his parent's death.
He shook himself, forcing himself to walk through the front door and greet his Aunt Lydia, Uncle Marcus and his cousin, Lucan.
He felt, as the butler shut the door behind him, that he had a long year ahead.