Unwilling (Book One of the Compelled Trilogy 1) (29 page)

Rowan couldn’t help but feel sorry for the girl. She could tell Cecily didn’t have a mean bone in her body.
She had just been dealt a bad hand, was all
. After all, you couldn’t help what family you were born into.

Rowan considered compelling the child to let her go, but she knew even if she did get free, she would never make it back above ground, not in the state she was in now. She would likely be found, beaten, and tossed back in her cage. And probably watched a lot more closely after two escape attempts. No, it was best to bide her time, let herself heal, and then she would escape properly.

“Uncle says that he’s gunna send a message to your brother real soon.” Cecily was saying and Rowan roused herself from her thoughts to focus on her. “He says that your brother will pay lots of money for you and then we can go live in a mansion and never have to worry about anything ever again.” Cecily sounded sad as she said this, not looking at Rowan and chewing her bottom lip.

They sat in stillness for a while longer, Cecily running her hands through the dirt, making shapes and pictures then rubbing her hand over them and starting again. Rowan watched the tiny child with her fiery red hair and large green eyes, and felt a pang of loneliness.

Even if the girl insisted on visiting her, it is not as if they could ever be true friends. Maybe if they had met in another life, but right now Cecily would always be just out of arms reach, with prison walls between them. The thought made Rowan unexpectedly despondent, mourning for something she didn’t understand.

“I can bring you a brush, if you would like.” Cecily said, drawing what appeared to be a sun on the ground.

“Okay.” Rowan said. She smiled at the little girl, who bounced brightly to her feet and dashed off in search of a brush.

Rowan took the time alone to stretch out her sore muscles. She moved slowly, taking mental stock of her physical injuries. Her rib hurt the most, but aside from the various bruises speckled all across her body, and her relentless headache, she felt fine. Sure, she was a little tender in places, namely her back, but that was her own fault and she could not blame anyone else for that one but herself. All things considered though, she could have been a lot worse. Rowan counted herself lucky that she was not.

Rowan lay on her back and pulled her shirt up to expose her ribs. She felt around the area and was surprised to learn that the swelling had gone down quite a bit and thought that perhaps her rib wasn’t broken, maybe just heavily bruised. Rowan began to feel hopeful
. The faster I heal, the faster I can work on getting out of this dungeon.

Rowan spotted Cecily making her way back into the room, a large bag slung over her shoulder, with her arms wrapped around a huge metal bucket. Cecily hunched over with exertion and when she reached Rowan, she plopped the bucket down as close to Rowan as she could, sloshing steaming water down her leg. Cecily panted, her chest heaving with each breath she sucked in.

Cecily shook off the water, beaming down at Rowan, who had hastily sat up. “I brought you some stuff!” She exclaimed, tugging the bag off her arm. She sat on the ground and began pulling things from the bag, a proud smile plastered to her face. “Here’s some soap, and here’s the brush, it’s got this crack on the side so you gots to be careful with it okay?” She looked at Rowan, her eyebrows arched, making her eyes seem twice as large as they were. Rowan nodded. “Ok, great! And of course here’s a cloth so you can wash yourself off with. And I brought you some clothes. I hope they fit you okay, you’re a little bigger than I am, in certain areas,” Her eyes skimmed Rowans chest and she hurriedly looked back to her bag, a blush creeping up her cheeks, “And I brought you a blanket, I know it can get awful cold down here, it’s not much but –“

“Thank you.” Rowan said gently, truly touched by the girl’s generosity. Cecily looked up at her, her face questioning for a moment, as if Rowan might be poking fun at her, but when Rowan smiled, she returned to her normally bubbly self.

“Well I don’t have the key so I can’t get the water into you, so I hope this is okay...” She trailed off, coming to her feet and gesturing to the water pail sitting just outside the cage, the bucket pressed to the thick metal bars.

“It’s fine.” Rowan assured her and Cecily began passing Rowan’s new treasures through the bars of the cage. When all was transferred, Cecily looked at the things lying on the ground in Rowan’s prison and nodded her head once as if to convince herself everything was satisfactory.

“Well I’ll leave ya to it then.” Cecily said and smiled one last time before leaving Rowan in her normal, bouncing manner.

Rowan stripped off the filthy shambles that passed for her clothes and tossed them outside the cage where they settled in a puff of dirt, blending in with the brown of the floor. She looked at them in disgust as she grabbed up the small square of cloth meant for washing. She dipped it into the warm water, the heat prickling her skin comfortably. She gently scrubbed the slime from her arms, being extra careful with her scabbed over burns.

Rowan sighed, closing her eyes as she scoured her thighs, her knees, her shins and her feet. Dirty water turned the dirt to mud under her. She dunked the cloth back in the bucket, the water turning dark with filth. She rang the drenched cloth out over her hair, hot water running down her face, cutting lines through the grunge.

She let her head fall back, her tangled excuse of hair tumbling down her back in a knotted line. Rowan soaked her black locks thoroughly, the weight of it pulling her head back further. Rowan twisted the soap in her hands, working out a good lather and ran it meticulously through her hair. The soap prickled her scalp slightly and Rowan felt herself sighing in contentment.

As Rowan scrubbed herself, she imagined she was washing away all the events of the past year; there went her mother in the kitchen, with the knife… down a scented stream of water down her back. There were all the evil things she had been told Elias did and all the dead she had found and buried, turning to mud under her feet. There was her kidnapping, running down the length of her body, bubbles swirling on the thin line of water as it trickled into the ground.

When Rowan was sure she was as clean as she could get she let the wash cloth fall into the bucket of water, nearly black, and it sunk to the bottom, heavy with dirt. She did her best to ring out her hair, water falling in torrents onto the ground. Before she had started washing she had placed the clothes Cecily had brought across the cage, on the pile of straw, so they wouldn’t get wet, and she crossed her prison now to get them.

The clothes were warm and although they were a bit snug, conforming to her body and clinging to her curves they were comfortable, and more important, they were clean. The shirt was brown and long sleeved, made of a slightly rough material. Rowan cupped the ends of the sleeves in her palm, pulling the fabric over her knuckles. The shirt ended just above the hemline of the dull gray pants, showing a thin line of her midriff, which made Rowan blush, though no one was there to see her. Rowan tugged at the bottom of the shirt, but it kept springing up, refusing to fully cover her body.
Proper young women do not show their stomach.

Then again, proper women do not take an accompany of men and camp in the woods for months at a time in search of their deranged brother, or almost lie with someone they were not wed to. Or for that matter, proper young ladies weren’t taken hostage and held in an underground cage. But if Rowan wasn’t a proper young lady what was she?
Just Rowan,
she supposed.

The pants were made with a soft cloth and lined with what Rowan figured was sheep’s wool. They were a little small, and when she moved around she could feel the to short fabric rubbing against her ankles. The sheep bah’d in approval at her and Rowan allowed herself to smile at the creature.

Rowan made a face at the brush she had retrieved, knowing untangling her hair would likely bring a fair amount of pain. She started at the frayed ends, struggling to get the brush through her thick wavy hair. She moved the brush up as she cleared one knot, then another, until at last she was able to glide the brush all the way down without a hitch.

Rowan parted her hair down the middle and ran her fingers the length of her hair, surprised at how much it had grown since starting her journey. Her hair reached down to the small of her back and with the water weighing it down it reached almost all the way down her back, a few tendrils stretching to touching the top of her new pants.

Rowan yawned deeply, suddenly exhausted and rubbed her eyes with her palms. She felt lighter, with all the dirt cleansed from her body, she wrapped herself in the thick off white blanket Cecily had brought and laid down in the straw. She did not want to fall asleep, she did not want to relive another nightmare, but her eyes were closing anyway and Rowan knew she could do nothing to stay awake and surrendered to the plague that had become her unconscious mind.

TWENTY-FOUR     

Jace kissed the hollow of her neck, her head tilted back, her hair pillowed out under her. “Jace.” Rowan murmured, her breath catching in her throat as his hands skimmed her thighs.

His lips returned to hers, they felt warm and his tongue skimmed her lower lip, she moaned deep in her throat, abandoning all inhibitions. Her hands pressed against his back urging him closer. She felt cold, so cold, without his body pressing against hers. “Jace?” She asked as he pulled away. He looked down on her, his eyes luminescent in the dim room.

“What do you want, Rowan?” He asked her gently, blinking slowly.

“You,” she told him breathlessly, “I want you.” And his mouth crashed down on hers again, hungry and -

“HEY!”

Rowan stammered awake, looking around disgruntled. She blushed heavily, as though Cecily- who had entered the room carrying a hefty looking bag- could have delved into her sleeping mind and seen what had been going on there.

“Who you dreaming about?” Cecily asked her, giggling. “Is it that man out there looking for you? Whoever he is, he seems to got you all bothered.” She laughed, causing Rowan to blush deeper and duck her head in shame. “Well, I’ve got to feed Horace. So I’m gunna have to tie you up.” She looked apologetic as she slung the bag from over her shoulder with a shrug, it landed with a thump on the ground, sending dirt flinging off in all directions. “Uncle says I have to or I can’t keep Horace. He doesn’t know I already come down here to see you, you know, other than to bring you food, but he might come check on me. He thinks you’ll kill me first chance you get and if he comes down here and you’re not tied up then he might just kill us both.” Cecily laughed at Rowan’s stunned expression. “I’m just teasing.” She said with a smile, than more seriously, “He’ll only kill you.” Than a second later, she laughed again, the sound falling flat as the rocks surrounding them gobbled up her joy as if trying to diminish it. “Is it okay, that you’re tied up, I just don’t want either of us in trouble?” Cecily asked, looking once again apologetic.

“It’s fine.” Rowan complied and she saw Cecily exhale as if she had been holding her breath. Maybe if she were able to gain the child’s complete trust Cecily would be willing to help her get out when the time came. Cecily untangled a length of tan rope, which Rowan hadn’t noticed, from around her waist that looped several times on her slim frame.

“I’m gunna need you over here.” She told Rowan, pointing to the far side of the cage, away from the door and the cave entrance. “I’m real sorry again, Uncles being real bull headed about all this. I told him you don’t need no tying up after that whole thing with the old man.” Cecily looked pityingly at Rowan as Rowan faced the cage and stuck her hands through the bars. Cecily began winding the rope along her wrists, “and besides, even if you tried runnin’ it’s not like you can get out, this whole place is one giant maze. Even I get lost sometimes and I’ve been here for years.” Cecily rambled on mater of factly. 

Cecily tugged a couple times on the rope to make sure it held and walked back over to the cage door, pulling a key from thin twine that hung around her neck. “It don’t hurt ya none, does it?” Cecily asked, inclining her head in Rowans general direction.

“No.” Rowan told her and it was the truth. Cecily could have easily tightened the rope a lot more. Rowan knew she could break free of the bonds if she wiggled enough; slip right through the opened door while Cecily’s back was turned. Rowan also knew it wouldn’t do her any good and would probably get Cecily in trouble. Rowan scrunched up her face, wondering when she had started to care about the young girl’s well-being.

“Good.” Cecily smiled at her, unlocking the door. She stooped to grab the large sack she had brought in with her and oomphed as she staggered into the cage, dropping the bag again by the large trough on the opposite side of the cage from Rowan. 

“How long have I been here?” Rowan asked Cecily’s back, craning her head to see Cecily over her shoulder.

“Nine days.” Cecily responded, not missing a beat. “And uncles getting real anxious about it, on accounts we haven’t heard from yer brother yet, but Uncle was never one for patience. Besides, I like having ya here, even if ya don’t talk too much.” Cecily told her, turning quickly to smile at her before using the key she still had around her neck to tear a hole open in the bag.