Angel of Ash (32 page)

“Sir,” she began, she wasn’t comfortable calling him by his first name, did not know if he wanted her to call him by his first name even though it ached to leave her lips. It had been close to six weeks since she’d miscarried. Six weeks and she’d undertaken his many instructions on how to be a dutiful and obedient wife. She never told him any of her private secrets or fears. He never showed interest in her unless she was in his bed. Most other times he ignored her, waking up before she, leaving the home, returning at night to work in his study, before finally he would come to his room. “Yes, my lady?” He asked kneeling across the room, his back towards her, tending to the fire that had died down.

Her request paused upon her lips, she had wanted to ask a boon of him, but it was too soon. Instead she lifted her shoulders nonchalantly, shrugging, how she missed her music, missed the feel of the piano keys beneath her. It was a physical ache. She’d played nearly every day of her life. Even upon the ship the captain had a piano in his quarters which he allowed her to play. She’d never been so long without her music. “Thank you for tending to the fire, there was a chill in the air.” She ended.

He did not respond, his movements momentarily stilling as he placed another log on the fire. Asher knew she had wanted to ask him something else. She was not the same woman as when he’d first met her. Angel was timid, shy and he knew it was because of him, because of the death of their child. He stared into the fire. “What were you about to ask me, my lady?”

She shook her head quickly, a smile, fake, cheerful. “Nothing of import, sir,” she spoke lightly hoping he wouldn’t ask her of anything. She’d keep peace with him. “Would you come to bed, now, sir?” She asked trying to change the subject.

He looked up quickly meeting her eyes, she dropped hers, rubbing the blanket upon her lap. “My lady, answer me my question,” he said sharply and she jumped, trembling.

“Please, sir, it was of no import, I promise you,” she said hurriedly. Bravely she met his eyes. “No import, the night grows long,” she said. Smiling bravely she met his eyes, trying to ease the fear within her. “Perhaps I have been too long your guest, would you wish your peace and for me to depart?”

He didn’t speak; her feelings became crushed as he stood from the fire, his back once again turned towards her. Clenching her hands she smiled a hard, bitter smile to herself. She could do no right, in his eyes. She felt as if she was teetering on a great ship without tether upon dangerous waves at any moment the fathomless ocean would all come crashing down upon her. She didn’t know whether to leave or not, didn’t know whether to speak or not.

Perhaps he was just being kind, she thought to herself, as she slowly stood from the bed, a thin linen shift her only covering.

“I did not give you permission to leave,” his hard voice bit out.

Angel instantly stilled, her head turned towards his voice, her eyes widening. “Yes, my lord,” she whispered and sat upon the edge of the bed, her hands folded neatly in her lap, wondering how to make amends for her stupidity and for enraging him. “Forgive me, please, sir. I wish only to make you happy, I do promise you this. Please, think kindly upon me, my lord, I do not wish to anger you or upset you; I only wish to ease your burdens, sir. Please, forgive me.” She quietly pleaded and could not stop the tears that came to her eyes. Closing her eyes tightly she looked away from his ramrod back and placed one hand upon her mouth, stilling any other sound from escaping. Did he not understand how much she loved him? How she wanted to give him the peace which she knew he longed for searched for.

She would not speak, she decided, unless he first spoke to her, would do nothing to upset him. She’d be perfect, absolutely perfect for him. She would never ask him for anything. Not her music, not her family, not her friends. She’d give everything up just to be with him.

“Come to me,” he commanded her.

Swiftly she stood from the bed, and walked towards him, standing next to him, her head bowed, meek and humble.

“Are you pregnant?’ He asked her harshly when she stood but a mere feet from his side.

Her breath escaped her. She twisted her fingers together, starting at the fire. “Yes.”

“It should not be so, my lady. I was careful. I did not want you…to go through that again.”

“I understand my lord.” She said quietly, not expecting his thoughtful words. Nodding, he looked weary and tired. “You may retire for the night, my lady.”

“Here or in my room? She asked.

“You choose.”

She willingly slept with her husband that night.

As the months passed, Angel was exceedingly careful regarding her second pregnancy. She ate fruits and vegetables, took daily walks around the park with groomsmen and drank plenty of milk. Other than that one night where Asher had asked her if she wanted to willingly sleep with him, he ignored her pregnancy as he did the first one. She tried to remain cheerful nevertheless and felt this time it would be different as she prayed over her loveless marriage and her baby hoping beyond hope it would be born at full term and healthy. When she reached her ninth month of pregnancy, she breathed a sigh of relief and became more ascertain that the baby would survive, often the baby keeping her up in the middle of the night as he or she tossed and turned. Asher refused to speak to her about the baby, in fact, he’d ignored her for the past two months and she saw little of her husband.

One day, having not seen her husband in three days, nor knowing where he was, she hid away in the study closing the door behind her. She’d still not been able to play and would sit at the piano for a few minutes in privacy,

The door opened as she jolted, Asher walking in carrying papers. He stopped abruptly at the sight of her as she hurriedly scurried away from the locked piano. “What are you doing?” He asked snidely. There was no gentleness in his façade, the papers tightly clenched in his hand.

“Nothing…nothing my lord,” she breathed, inexplicably placing her hand on her large stomach, underneath her high wasted gown. The baby was the only thing that had grown much on her and her breast, she was still willowy slim and graceful. “How was your day?”

He ignored her question. “Were you going against my wishes, my lady? Were you playing?” He asked snidely.

“No, no my lord, I was not.”

“Then why were you at the piano?”

“I-I missed it.”

Laughing he looked at her in mock irritation. “You are such a little fool. I have told you, have I not; you have no skill, other than your fertility and pretty face. You should be glad I kept you from embarrassing yourself.”

Her stomach clenched at his horrid words. “Please do not say such.”

“Say what? My lady, you are a fool. Your skill doesn’t know lay on your hands unless you are stroking me to satisfaction.”

“Why? Why would you say something like that? If you do not ignore me, you curse me? Berate me? What have I done to deserve this?”

“You should be used to such. You were born a slave. Isn’t it true? Slaves have no feelings, no emotions. Your pleasure is in your masters’ pleasure.”

“I am no longer a slave,” she said quietly.

“You are still and will always be a slave you are my chattel, my fucking slave; you’ll do whatever I tell you to do. You and that fucking child you carry.”

She didn’t say more, her emotions once again brutalized. She walked towards the door just a few feet next to him, her lip bit so hard she nearly drew blood.

“Stop. I didn’t tell you to leave.”

“Leave me alone,” she said, marching around him, but he stopped her, grabbing her arm, pulling her away from the opened door which he slammed shut and locked. She did not struggle from his vise, so afraid that harm would come to the baby. “Let me go,” she gritted out in anger and despair. “Just let me go.”

“Sit down at the piano,” he commanded, not knowing why he was doing this, not knowing why he wanted to hurt her so badly. Her hair had grown back black, it was nearly as long as it had once been, she sat at the piano before looking at him guiltily, wearing blue, Deborah’s favorite color, scurrying away from him, scared, pregnant, even though she was caramel of color, she looked so much like Deborah it was as if he viewed Deborah all over again. There was no Angel…just Deborah. .

She pulled herself away from his arm and marched to the piano, sitting resolutely at the piano. He followed her, pulling the key from his pocket and stood behind her, unlocking the piano and opening the covering. “Play for me.” He commanded. “Let me see worth in you outside of your cunt. Maybe, maybe if you play well enough I’ll hire you out, so that you can make me some money instead of draining me of it. A slave should bring profit to her master.”

He ignored the tears that fell upon the white keys of the piano. Dropping his paperwork, he slammed the flat of his palm on top of the piano, causing her to jump. “Play for me you fucking whore,” he commanded.

She brought shaking palms up to the keys, her shoulders shaking silently from sobs and brought her lithe fingers to the keys, the piano a blur before her as tears fell down her eyes. After sixteen months of emptiness she tried resolutely to play notes but it was discordant and jumpy. She could no longer play, her fingers stilled slowly over the keys as she sobbed silently, her head bowed, broken.

“See. I told you. You have no skill. Whores do not have any skill outside of the bedroom. Slaves none. I have impregnated you. You are nothing more than my whore slave. And I cannot even give you your full worth until you carry that child to term. If you were on the slave market, you should perhaps bring me a few hundred pounds…perhaps. Do you understand?”

She brought her hands to her mouth to stifle her sobs. She was so weak. “I’m not your slave!” She managed to say, standing up, jerking the piano bench so hard behind her he was forced to move aside or be hit with it. She stood, facing him, enraged. “I am not your slave! I am not your whore! What are you going to do? Hit me? I’ve had enough of this abuse! I will take no more.”

“You will take what I give you!” He said, pulling her to him, shaking her by the arms.

She pushed him off her with all her force, knowing an anger that had never touched her before. “Fuck you!” She cried. “You sick bastard! You are crazy! Demented and you’d have me fall into this insanity with you! Fuck you, Asher! I hate you! I hate you! I will not suffer my baby to know you as their father, you sick bastard!”

He stood, shock still as if just realizing the words he’d spoken to her as they stared at each other in shock, anger, Angel fisting her hands, she swung, rage within every fiber of her feeling and struck him so hard across the cheek Asher’s’ head snapped to the side. She didn’t care if he hit her back, she’d fight him to her death, she promised. She would not take one more moment of his abuse. “If you ever, talk to me that way again, you better sleep with one eye open, because I will come and I will slice your throat from ear to ear if you ever hurt me like this again. And if you dare think you are going to hurt my child, you should wish yourself dead this very moment.”

He stood, shocked in silence clenching his jaw, she braced herself for his hit, a smack across the face, balling her fist at her sides.

“
I wouldn’t touch your child. I wouldn’t hit you.” He bit out.

She met his eyes. “Asher you need help. There is something wrong with you and I cannot take it anymore I will not suffer your abuse anymore. I am not your slave, I am not your chattel, and I am not your whore. And until you can see me as such I am leaving and I will not return and I will not suffer me nor my child to know your pain. I will not do that to our child. As much as you believe I am a whore, you are my only love, still to this day; there is no other for me. But I would rather be alone for the rest of my life then deal with your madness one moment more.”

“
There is nothing within me. I have no soul…barely a conscious. Go, my lady, go far from me, I will do nothing but pull you into my hell. Just go.”

He watched her leave him and said nothing and could do nothing.

His parents welcomed her with warm arms. It was unsettling to realize that the man who did not love her had a family who were so warm and loving. She could not tell them the evil that Asher had done to her, it was so personal, and she could not. They did not ask why she had left him; they must have known also Asher could not be redeemed. He could not be changed. His bitter words and actions had made her flee. She forgave him as she told him she would and she prayed for him and she still secretly loved him.

But yet, here, she admitted, in his parents warm and loving home, with at least one of the brothers always in attendance her mood became lighter and her smiles became more frequent. The letters were sent to her father and her aunt and uncle unhindered. She explained haltingly to his parents and Hunter Asher’s work in keeping her isolated and keeping her letters from reaching them.

Hunter had hugged her tightly as had Maria while Ethan shook his head in anger and fisted his hands and Caleb looked enraged. They never probed, never asked. They were happy that she was so near to giving birth and kept her comfortable and watched over her like mother hens.

“What shall you name the child?” Hunter asked as the two young women strode near the lake bordering her parents land. Little Ethan was in her arms, sleep from long day of playing. Hunter settled him upon the outspread blanket they’d laid earlier and joined Angel once more by the lake.