0 comments/ 30874 views/ 7 favorites Twisted Cinders Ch. 01 By: GoodLittleRoses This is the first chapter of my first story entry on Literotica. I warn you now, it starts slow paced to properly set the scene, but I hope this will make the next chapters even more powerful and pay off! I really appreciate feedback, and thanks for reading? GLR 1. The arms wound around her, drawing her closer...closer to the soft skin, her face pressed into that warm hollow between shoulder and neck. She whimpered as his hands drifted softly down her back, his deep breaths stirring her hair... Slowly, as the tell-tale warmth began to seep through her body in the wake of his hands, the equally familiar unease began. Something was wrong. Where was she? Why did this feel so...off? Unwillingly she felt herself draw back, away from the comforting solid of his chest, to look at his features... Only to find she could not focus. He was a faceless body, a figurement of her imagination that her desperate brain had not the knowledge to complete. 'Where are you? Who are you?' she cried out, but the dream was receding, his shape fading and reducing into mist, arms outdrawn, even as she spoke. Elise awoke and opened her eyes as the usual sinking grief that always followed this dream set in. Her hand rose to her wet face, and angrily swiped at the tears as she extracted her limbs from the twisted sheets. Although at least this dream had been less....eventful than on some occasions, it had to stop. Just one more month, and she feared all her remaining sanity might evaporate... She grasped the drapes that concealed her bed and drew them sharply aside, letting her eyes adjust to the dawn light that filtered through the window, illuminating the kitchen. The bay in which she slept was small, but comfortable enough, and the embers in the stove kept the room warm through to morning. She stirred these embers back into life. Reaching for the pail of water she had brought in last night, she immersed her head in it and brusquely washed all over, scrubbing the heat of her disturbed and feverish sleep away. Her face flushed crimson as yet again she found her intimate folds swollen and moist, and she cursed herself inwardly. What was this wickedness that had risen in her? Was the devil himself trying to tempt her? Ah, but with whom? Even should she wish to act out these fantasies, there was not a male who would condescend to love this strange servant girl within 6 miles of the estate. She laughed wryly to herself, as she pulled on her worn dress and apron. Soon, the routine took over...light the house fires, water from the well, eggs from the barn, and by quarter to eight and breakfast was sizzling on the stove. This she delivered to the dining room at three minutes to eight. When the Baronet Sir Edwin Grey and his son Lucan sat down to breakfast at eight, as they did every morning, she would be back in the comfort of the kitchen, eating her own meal. As little contact with Sir Grey and Lucan was one goal Elise's day revolved around, and had served her suitably for the 10 years since her mother had died. A wealthy widow, her mother had married Sir Edwin -- also a widower, with two sons, when Elise was five years old. Elise had no recollection of her real father, who had died in battle when she was two. Her first real memories were of Sir Grey's house, and the arguments... Her mother had told her later that Sir Grey had not always behaved so. When they met, he did not drink so much, he was gentle, and not a jealous man... but Elise could not fit the image her mother painted with the man she knew to be her step father, a man who called her mother a whore, dragged her behind closed doors by her hair and caused the muffled screams that would haunt Elise forever. It did not take long for her mother's spirit to break. Sir and Lady Grey had few friends, their country manor was six miles from the nearest town, and isolation and abuse spanning years lead to illness and finally release in death. Elise was nine. She had tried to blank all memories of that time from her mind. They brought only pain, save a few small glimmers of happiness; reading with her mother in front of the fire in the drawing room...weeks when Sir Grey was away on business and her mother would smile again. Also, Jem. Jem was Sir Grey's oldest child, four years older than Elise. She had some memories of playing with him on the haystacks in the barn, and darker ones -- of him comforting her in her room, his face white and lips tightly drawn, while her mother's cries echoed through the house. Lucan, Sir Grey's youngest son, was different altogether. Two years Elise's senior, he had always been quiet, withdrawn, and strangely calculating and unemotional in his responses. He rarely acknowledged her. Odd, that you could inhabit the same house with someone for most of their life, and be none the wiser as to their thoughts. Elise sighed as those thoughts she fought to block with routine bustle returned. She was lonely, she supposed. After her mother's death, Sir Grey had become even worse. He drank himself into a stupor most nights, and dismissed the few staff they had. Elise was ordered from her small but pretty room to the kitchens, to replace the dismissed servants. She was too numb with grief to protest, and far too wary of Sir Grey and his violent moods. The space and practicality this role provided was almost a relief... any companionship with Jem was ended abruptly when he was sent away to train for the army aged 15. So the routine that filled the last decade began. Elise was not happy, nor was she utterly miserable. But she was a strong, practical girl and had not considered her isolation before the dreams started. She could not predict the nights they came, each time taking her by surprise yet again, but the longing and pain they brought was a harsh echo of the early days after her mother's death, and left her breathless. She blinked, turning her face from the hearth and retreating from her thoughts. Try as she liked to distract herself, she had to admit, something was not right these days. Not just the dreams, but the atmosphere of the manor. She no longer felt protected by invisibility, she felt edgy, vulnerable. Something was changing. Twisted Cinders Ch. 02 2. "The wine, girl." Elise jumped as Sir Grey's voice jolted her from her thoughts. She slid forward from her station against the wall in the corner of the dining room, and reached to refill his glass. She hated this time of day, hovering behind Sir Grey's chair, at his beck and call. At least they barely acknowledged her presence. Usually, anyway... Tonight, Sir Grey was in good spirits. A business deal had gone well -- some poor soul robbed blind, no doubt -- and together he and Lucan had emptied two decanters already. Lucan stabbed his food deftly, his cold, pale face impassive save for a lift of the left eyebrow and the corner of his mouth in a slight and permanent smirk. As Elise reached to top up Lucan's glass, their hands collided briefly. She jolted back, sloshing wine slightly onto the table linen. "Stupid child!" Sir Grey hissed, glaring sharply at her. "Sorry sir." she replied flatly, mopping the cloth. She knew better than to stand up to Sir Grey, but she was damned if she would grovel. As she returned to her place in the corner, however, she felt eyes upon her and looked up to see Lucan leaning back in his chair, glass in hand, cold grey gaze piercing her as her eyes raked up and down her frame. Elise attempted to hide the shudder that ran through her. "Hmmm..," Lucan mused, speculatively. "What my boy?" Sir Grey idly queried, his attention back on his food. "It strikes me, Father, that Elise over there may have grown a little over this past year." Lucan murmured, in his soft voice that never failed to cover an edge of malice. "And?" Sir Grey sighed, raising his eyes at Lucan "Well.... I suppose even she requires more clothes from time to time," He chuckled grimly. Sir Grey turned to consider Elise, his dark brows drawn together. He was a fierce looking man, with a heavy jaw and dark, unruly hair. Elise supposed Lucan must have inherited his long aquiline nose and almost feminine curved lips and movements from his mother; there was not a hint of them in Sir Grey -- he was masculine to the point of brutishness. At that moment, his dark gaze was hovering appraisingly on Elise's chest, which unfortunately had truly outgrown her dress rather over the past year. Elise squirmed slightly, staring at the tapestries on the opposite wall. Sir Grey cocked an amused eyebrow at her discomfort. "You look more like your bitch of a mother every day." he drawled, continuing to survey her. Elise closed her eyes, lest they betray the rage that welled up in her. She had become good at suppressing emotions over the past ten years, but as Sir Grey rarely acknowledged her, she was unused to taking such comments. If she resembled her mother, she was glad. She hoped it tormented him, if such a man could feel guilt. When she opened her eyes again, Lucan's cold face was set in an even greater smirk. "Yes Luc, I suppose you are right. I shall see about getting her a new dress -- we can't have visitors thinking we cannot afford to clothe out servants." Sir Grey declared. "Come and stand by my chair girl, and keep my glass full." What visitors?! Elise thought. She could not remember the last time a visitor had come to the Manor, at least, not one that had ever had cause to see her. She kept out of sight, as commanded. She moved to stand near Sir Grey's chair, reluctantly. Impatiently he reached out and clamped a strong hand on her arm, pulling her closer so her leg collided with the arm of his chair. Elise gritted her teeth. Sir Grey returned to his food and continued discussing the day's events with Lucan. By the time they started on the cheese, the wine was clearly affecting Sir Grey, whose voice had escalated in volume. Lucan was composed as ever, but his soft voice had become more animated and he leaned back further in his chair, laughing with his father. God, Elise thought as she watched them, they are unpleasant. She would usually have escaped back to the kitchen by now with a book surreptitiously lifted from the library - no one else in the house appreciated them, and she had a steady supply stowed under her mattress. However, tonight here she was stuck by Sir Grey's chair like an obedient dog. Suddenly, she felt something brush her leg. To her horror, she realised Sir Grey's hand had dropped down, and his fingers were trailing slowly up the back of her skirts, rubbing behind her knee. Elise froze. Sir Grey continued to talk to Lucan, but his hand now rubbed along her inner right thigh, tracing little circles through her coarse skirt. Her skin crawled at his touch and she felt nausea rising as she fought to stay still, clamping her legs together. His hand continued to creep up, until it finally reached her ass and began to knead the flesh there. Unable to stand it any longer, she attempted to move away, but Sir Grey grasped her hips and pulled her bodily down onto his lap. "You will do exactly as I say, as I want... Understand?" He hissed hotly into her ear. Elise stared at the wall, her face burning in rage and shame. Her eyes prickled, but she would not cry. She had not done that since her mother's death. "You have no right to touch me, Sir." she spoke coldly, loading as much derision as she could muster into the word 'Sir'. Still with her eyes fixed to the wall, she heard Lucan's dark chuckle. Her step father sneered. "I have every right," He breathed menacingly, "I have clothed you, fed you all these years, and you are as much mine as this chair I sit in." As if to prove his point, He ran his hands up her thighs, to her waist, and continued until he grasped her breasts in his hands, pulling her back into him. The humiliation was painful. He kneaded her breasts, pulling her back against him further. Elise could feel his laboured breathing on her neck, his hardness pressing against her ass. She bit her lip, and stared harder at the wall, desperately avoiding looking at Lucan who sat directly opposite, watching every moment. "You were right Luc my boy, little Elise has indeed grown...to think I hadn't noticed until now" Sir Grey grinned at him over her shoulder. Elise couldn't take anymore. Grabbing the edge of the table, she hauled herself away from him. He did not fight her. Her eyes met Lucan's for a brief second; his smirk was plain as ever, his eyes still cold, but intent. "You bastard!" she hissed at him, not waiting to see his responding grin as she stumbled out of the room. Their laughter echoed down the corridors behind her. Twisted Cinders Ch. 03 3. For the rest of the week after the humiliating dinner, she took every measure possible to avoid Sir Grey and his son. Of course, their evening meal was the one time she was absolutely expected to be present. That could not be avoided. Sir Grey had not gone so far again as on that evening. However, since that day she had been forced to stand next to his chair through every meal, while he occasionally ran his hands over her legs and ass. Tonight, when he retired to the library to work, she escaped back downstairs to the kitchens - slumping into a chair before the fire, exhausted. She had been so wound up this last week, so anxious. She was so preoccupied with becoming invisible every day that by the time she fell into bed around midnight, she usually sank into the dreamless sleep of the dead until she awoke at dawn. She wearily prepared the kitchen for the morning, before undressing and pulling on her simple night shift. She sank into her bed and drew the curtains of the alcove closed, shutting out the glow of the fire. Her eyes drifted closed. *** It was the same as before, as every time, but it had been a while since the last... The man was holding to her, whispering, and although she did not comprehend the words, they were comforting. Her face was pressed to his neck yet again, but this time she did not try to draw back, she allowed herself to go with the dream. She was getting better at this, this half-awareness, accepting the surrealism. Even within the dream, she recognised in herself a relief that she was here again...wicked as it was. His warm hands were running softly down her back; light, feather touches, worshipping her skin. The familiar heat was rising in her, coiling in her abdomen... a gentle pulse beginning between her legs. She sighed into his neck as his hands travelled lower, pressing herself against him.... *** It was not with the usual soft blurring that she came to, but suddenly, with the intense and immediate knowledge that something was wrong. She froze, her brain racing out of its dreamy state to take in her immediate surroundings....she was in bed, still. She was warm, too warm...the sheets tangled again...it was still dark. That was odd, she never woke before dawn. She couldn't have been asleep more than a few hours... Then she heard it. The rustle of fabric...and breathing...deep breathing. Someone was moving across the room. Even as her brain caught up, as she lay frozen, the alcove drapes twitched and began to draw apart, a shape silhouetted against the glow of the dying fire. She drew in breath to scream, though she knew it would do no good, but at Sir Grey's familiar chuckle her vocal chords froze. "Ah yes, very wise little Elise....I would stay quiet. I doubt even your outraged little voice could be heard six miles away...and you wouldn't want to annoy me now, would you..."He chuckled darkly again, leaning over her so his face was inches from her own. She could smell the alcohol on his breath, and she turned her face away as the bile rose in her throat. Fear saturated her brain. He roughly grasped her jaw and turned her head back towards him, leaning in and crushing his mouth against her lips. She whimpered in fear, clamping her lips shut, but his fingers on her jaw prized into her cheeks until her teeth edged open from the pain, and he roughly forced his tongue into her mouth and against hers. She lashed out at his chest with her fists, but made little impact, then his free hand grasped her wrists, dragging them over her head. He released her mouth from beneath his and chuckled again, whispering against her ear, "Ah yes, spirited as ever..." Still grasping her wrists with one hand, his right reached down and grasped the hem of her shift. She squirmed as he dragged it up her body, exposing her to his gaze in the glow of the dying fire. His face was still in shadow, but she could feel his eyes raking her flesh, starting at her breasts, down over her stomach, before lingering at the thatch of hair between her thighs. He growled deep in his throat as she squirmed, trying to free herself and escape his stare, but only succeeding in improving his view. Suddenly, he grasped her hair, spread over the pillow, and hauled her upright. She cried out in pain. He released her hair and wrists just long enough to tear her shift from her body entirely in one fluid movement, before grasping her hair and dragging her into the light before the hearth. Her hands clung to his wrist trying to lessen the pull on her hair, whimpering. She stumbled to her knees in front of him, still controlled by his firm hold in her hair, and he pulled back her head kneeling to her level before her. His eyes continued to rake her body, her knees splayed slightly under her and he drank in the sight of her pouting pussy lips gleaming in the fire light. He ran his right hand over each breast in turn, circling each nipple before tweaking it. She whimpered, and his hand began to drift over her stomach, down further until he ran a single digit lightly along her slit. With horror, she prayed that her dream had not left her moist. "Sir Grey, don't do this," she begged, pleading with her eyes. He laughed again. "Why, Elise, I believe you must be enjoying this as much as I -- see how you cunt seeps for me already?" he rasped, grinning, as he held up his slick finger. Slowly, his eyes on hers, he placed the finger on her lips. "Taste how you want it..." He breathed, "Taste what a whore you really are." Elise had little choice. She parted her lips slightly, and allowed him to run his finger along her tongue before he echoed the move, tasting her. "You look like your mother, you beg like your mother, and you taste like the whore too."He smiled bitterly, his eyes dark with lust and rage. Elise did not think she could have moved if she were not still frozen in fear. But her eyes flickered to the fire poker lying just out of reach. Maybe.... but his eyes saw the movement and followed her gaze. His face hardened as he picked up the poker. "Getting ideas, were we? I think not. Let me make myself clear..." He drawled slowly. "I can cause you so much pain you beg to die, Elise. There is no one to notice or care if you do. No one would come to your aid. I suggest you follow my orders very closely now, understand?" Elise had no doubt that he meant every word he said, and that every one was true. Wretched as she was, she wanted to survive this, in one piece. She nodded, closing her eyes in resignation. "Say yes, Father," He prompted. She froze. Father..? This beast of a man..? His grip on her hair tightened menacingly. She detached her emotions completely and tried to empty her head of thought. It was futile and dangerous to do otherwise. "Yes....Father." She whispered. "Good," He breathed. He set the poker down where he could reach it and she could not, the tip resting ominously in the embers. His hand reached down to cup her mound. She cringed under the vulnerable position. "Have you ever been with a man before, little Elise?" He breathed into her ear, "Have you ever been touched, licked ...fucked by a man?" He chuckled. "I doubt it, but I shall have proof...." Before she could grasp his meaning, he thrust a finger deep inside her. She cried out and writhed at the invasion, he responded by probing deeper still until he met her barrier. His breathing in her ear was ragged as she struggled in vain against him. "Hmmm..." He growled, "...so tight. So... untouched." He rocked his hand against her, and she gasped at the overwhelming sensations that flooded her, and the humiliation, eyes widening in shock. He chuckled. "...And so responsive." He drew back, taking his hand from her, and rose to standing, keeping her kneeling with his grip on her hair. "So I don't suppose you've ever really seen a man before either...touched him, tasted him... suckled on him..." While he spoke he reached down to unlace his breeches, eyes on her face. Elise closed her eyes and fought the rising bile. This could not be happening. "Please..." She gasped, "...please stop..." She opened her eyes to try to plead yet again, but all her begging did was feed the desire flaming in his fierce eyes. "Watch, Elise," He ordered, pulling her hair so she was forced to look down to where he was unlacing. She stared, mesmerised as he released his eager cock, hard and straight before her eyes. She had never seen one before, and to her eyes it was huge, rigid and swollen with a bulbous head. A bead of liquid seeped from the slit at the head. Sir Grey smiled down at her terrified wide eyes. He grasped one of her hands and wrapped it around the thick shaft. "Stroke it," He ordered. Elise could only stare, numb as he worked her hand up and down his shaft under his. He groaned deeply. It was like moving silk over iron, and she could feel the veins beneath her fingers. He was so close to her face she could smell his musty scent. "Open your mouth," He commanded, huskily. She shook her head. No. No.., she couldn't. She'd be sick. Suddenly, Sir Grey released her hand and she felt the searing heat of hot iron close to her cheek. She froze. "If you disobey me one more time, you shall feel this poker branding your flesh," He seethed. "You will open your mouth, and you will suck my cock like the good little whore you are...and if I feel your teeth once, I shall knock every one from your skull with this iron." She flinched from the heat, despairing. There was no choice. He meant every word. Slowly, Elise parted her lips, trying to detach from what she was doing. With a low growl, Sir Grey began to push his hard cock into her soft mouth. She whimpered and his cock twitched in response. Elise felt liquid on her tongue, and a strange salty taste in her mouth. She focused on breathing through her nose, trying to stay calm. Sir Grey felt her tongue move against the underside of his cock and groaned. The sight of her lips stretched around his shaft was almost too much, and he paused a moment to regain control. "Now then, little step daughter... suckle on my cock like your mother did before you," He rasped. Elise whimpered again, and began to suck, rubbing her tongue along him. She did not know how to please him, but if she did, perhaps this hell would end sooner. He groaned and she continued. After a few minutes of this, Sir Grey brought both hands to her head grasping her hair tightly. Thrusting his hips and pulling her head towards him, he began to drive deep into her mouth, as animal lust took over his actions. She whimpered as it became harder to breathe. Her evident distress only increased his lust, and he began fucking her mouth deeply until he felt the constriction of her throat around the head of his engorged cock. She gagged and the ripples around his shaft sent him escalating towards climax. The room was full of the ragged sounds of his breathing, her struggling and the slap of his flesh against her face. His balls began to churn and tighten, and he thrust once more, deep into her throat before pulling out of her mouth, dragging her head back by her hair so her face was turned up to him. She gasped air into her open mouth in shock. He angled his cock at her face and pumped it with his fist, once, twice. Then, with a feral snarl, he began to shoot forth his load as he stared into her bewildered eyes. The first two spurts landed on her tongue, then splattered on her face and breasts. He clamped her jaw shut with one hand. "Drink down my seed," he snarled, forcing it closed until he witnessed her swallow with a grimace. The last thing she recalled before everything faded into black was his cold smile looking down at her. Twisted Cinders Ch. 04 When she came round, she was shivering on the cold slate flagstones, naked, the fire a clag of dying ashes. Elise stumbled to the doorway in the dark, and fumbling with the latch, fell out into the stone kitchen yard. The dawn was trying to creep up the field's edge on the horizon; but a heavy, leaden weight of cloud and water blanketed the sky and muted the thin light. She knelt on the cobbles and let the heavy drops of rain wash her upturned face and shivering form clean. She did not cry, she allowed the numbness to soak her mind along with the downpour. When she could move, Elise clawed handfuls of lavender and rosemary from the raised beds and returned to the kitchen. With fistfuls of herbs and lukewarm water she began to scrub every inch of her body, until the smell of him was out of her nostrils, and her skin was chaffed clean. She coaxed the fire to life and sat before its encouraged flames to dry. As the heat thawed her limbs, her mind began to work. Worse than the lingering smell, her bruised scalp or bleeding knees, was the guilt. The gut wrenching, bile raising sensation that she had somehow asked for this...that they had seen into her dreams, watched the impure thoughts and desires that bubbled under her surface... She had to get out, before she was lost beyond all salvation. Determination and desperation suddenly possessing her, Elise stumbled to her feet, and reached for her dress. Her hand froze when it met not the usual frayed linen, but soft velvet. Apparently, Sir Grey had listened to Lucan's advice after all. She held the new dress aloft and suppressed the sudden hysterical urge to laugh. The last time she had set eyes on the claret garment, with its red and gold braid, it was gracing the elegant form of her mother. Of course, the irony was not accidental. Sir Grey was many things, but stupid was not one of them. Elise had no other clothes, and he had taken the linen. She began to pull on the velvet gown. She felt as though she were dressing for her own execution, dressing up to become a ghost... Were these conflicting emotions an echo of those that her mother had once felt? What separated them at all now... was she simply a continuation of the same doomed story? She shook her head. If she kept thinking like this, she would go mad, and may as well give up now... She was a slightly different shape to her mother, after all. Josephine had been French, petite, slim. Elise had never met her father, but he had been an Englishman, and the result was the addition of traditional English curves to Elise's delicate French features. Though she fit the dress better than her old one, the bust was still tight, and the neckline lower. She wondered whether that had been considered in the choice of dress. For a moment, she contemplated whether Sir Grey had actually meant to touch her at all the previous night. Whether he had ever intended to open the curtain, and if he had not simply planned to replace the dress and leave. Whether the drink only spurred the outcome... These thoughts only compounded her unease. Because then, maybe, if not for the dream... She shook her head again. What he had done could not be undone. He had shown what he was capable of. Had he ever shown charity to her mother? Better to assume the worst was still to come, and leave. *** Elise prepared breakfast meticulously and delivered it to the dining room, unseen, as usual. Had anyone been around to see her laying out platters and striding down the halls, no one could have guessed that today would be any different from every other. She knew that if she left before breakfast, they would know she was missing within the hour. Now, she had a few hours to go unnoticed....Elise also knew that the best time to leave would be after dinner, when she had the whole night to go unmissed, and the cover of darkness...but to face another dinner with Sir Grey was more than she could bear. In the kitchen, she reached under her mattress and extracted her mother's miniature, and a small purse containing a few gold coins. Little, but enough to be of use should she become desperate. She wrapped up a loaf of bread and some cheese, and made her way to the stables. The sun had risen and lit up the yard, bathing her in warmth. She slipped quietly into the stable building, pausing a moment to savour the sweet dusty smell of hay and of horses. There had once been six of them, back in her childhood when Sir Grey and her mother would ride out in the carriage, and Jem was still there. She had learnt to ride on a pony, Sal. Now, Elise ran her eye over the row of empty stalls, and thanked God she had at least learnt to ride in her youth. It had been a while, but she trusted that she had not forgotten. Two horses remained; both pure bred, haughty stallions. Sir Grey's being the largest of the two, Elise picked the lesser of two evils, Lucan's horse. "I hope you are not too loyal to your dear master," Elise muttered as she saddled the restless animal up, "Now live up to your name, Lucifer, and run like hell." *** Elise had not felt free or at ease for years, but as she cantered down the lanes, wind whipping her hair in her face and the sun warming her back, she laughed aloud like a child. When had she forgotten the world was so beautiful? When had she stopped noticing the jewel-like crocuses thrown about the verges, or the birdsong? Perhaps, she mused, when you have been in one place for so long, you stop seeing anything. Or perhaps her surroundings at the house had become so tainted with the stains of years that they were no longer beautiful at all. She could not remember the last time she had heard birds in the orchard. It was approaching noon, and her stomach began to rumble. Elise jumped off the horse, and led him behind a high hedgerow into an empty field. Tethering him to a tree, she lay on the grass nearby and idly bit into an apple, staring at the sky. *** She awoke to water dripping on her face with a start. Dazed, she jumped up, looking around her in panic. She was still in the field, the horse still tethered beneath the tree, but the sky had turned a threatening shade of lead, and as she stood the drops of rain began to patter with increased urgency around her. Elise cursed herself. Why had she let herself fall asleep? How could she have been so careless? She had no concept of how long she had slept, the light was low, but it was impossible to tell the hour by the sun through the heavy cover of cloud. Desperately, she clambered upon the horse and kicked him into a canter. She had to get away from the house. She should never have stopped. They could be looking for her. She choked back a panicked sob and urged Lucifer on. *** Edwin Ramage banged his tankard down on the table with the confidence of one bolstered by plenty of ale. " 'tsa damned crime...." He slurred, focusing somewhere above the heads of his drinking partners, " 'tswhat it is. Should be 'anged up by dere fat, rich necks....Keep askin' for more they do, everymonth, an' the wife....an' the kiddies....DEPENDS on me...." A tear pooled at the corner of his eye. The man sitting next to him clapped him on the back. "Yeah s'alright Ed, we know. We all have to pay the bloody rent too, ya know. Ain't like we don't all 'ave the same problem – the bastards on our backs, the woman gettin' all het up 'bout it...." There were dejected shrugs of agreement from the burly bunch sitting round the table, tankards in hand. "Still...were not all drinkin' away our rent in quite the fashion you are, Ed..." the man continued, grinning. There were chuckles from around the table. The Greys might have been depleting the contents of their pockets, but they weren't yet eroding the town morale. Edwin glared half-heartedly in the general direction of his companions. He felt wretched, and completely pissed. Somewhere through the fog of self-pity, he was aware that his wife was going to have his head on a block when he got home. He let out an exaggerated sigh. " I gots to go...," he declared dejectedly. Then, in one last theatrical stand, he waved his arm in the air in the manner of one rallying a revolution. "..but one day, Sir Grey and his bast'd, swindlin' son will pay!" A few more chuckles, and a couple of slightly concerned hushes came in response. " 'sright Ed," replied his companion as Edwin was gently manhandled out of the tavern door, "One day they might 'n all... 'Til then though, we'll keep payin' em, and they'll keep uppin' the rent, an' then one day we'll be payin' 'em to sleep on a bit of dirt road they own...." The heavy tavern door slammed shut behind him, muting the chorus of voices from within, and Edwin staggered out in the rain in a not altogether straight line, humming forlornly to himself. Squinting into the rain ahead, he watched slightly baffled as the most attractive woman he thought he had ever seen emerged. She was clutching the bridle of a lame horse, and she was soaked though, long dark hair hanging in a wavy sheet over her shoulders and heavy, mud spattered dress. He wondered for a moment if the ale had brewed quite right, and if she was not just a figurement of his intoxicated imagination, but what was left of his rational mind decided the lame horse was just a little too inventive. " Ere," He called to her, involuntarily reaching a hand out in her general direction and managing to brush her midriff, " Whereya goin' all on yours own pretty lady?" The woman flinched away from him, drawing closer to the horse, and Edwin stumbled back slightly. " Meant no 'arm like..." He mumbled. "Please," The girl asked, her face desperate and running with rain, "I just need to get to the church..." Edwin nodded and pointed unsteadily towards a spire, just visible against the dark sky. " 'sover there..." he motioned. "Thank you." The girl spoke, almost in a whisper, as she moved on and vanished back into the rain. The next day, head sore from the ale and a constant barrage of abuse from his long-suffering wife, Edwin would wonder if he dreamt the whole thing. *** The Reverend Thomas Brook was snuffing out the last of the vestry candles when the knock on the great church doors echoed around the aisles. He calmly picked up the single candlestick still alight, and his set of keys, and went to investigate. Elise stood, white as a sheet, shivering on the stone steps, clinging to Lucian's bridle still. The Reverend stood and took them in for a second, before speaking. 'Child, I am locking the church for the night.." he said, before blowing out the candle and setting it down. He stepped out and locked the door behind him, and when he faced Elise once more he was taken aback by the look of broken defeat on her face. He laid a hand gently on her arm and smiled at her kindly. "Let me finish... So, if it is shelter you seek, you must come back with me to the vicarage, where it is warm." Elise nodded dumbly, before glancing uncertainly at the horse. She opened her mouth to speak, but the Reverend spoke first. " I shall see to it that your horse is stabled, his leg can wait. You, however, cannot, or you shall get quite ill." He took the bridle from her, and supporting her by the arm, set off down the road towards the welcoming light of the vicarage windows. ***