Part 10 (1/2)
After several moments, Lock made his way back to the farm, pausing to look over the garden. Farming was almost as difficult as running a s.h.i.+p properly. It was hot, dirty work that required strength and patience. Part of him respected Sparrow for how well she did on her own. When he'd finished the farm work, he'd cut enough wood to last through the winter and stacked it behind the house, though he wondered why he'd bothered. He and Sparrow would be at the Archipelago long before winter. Of course he'd have to a.s.sign a couple of eunuchs to guard her while he was at sea. He couldn't risk having a lady unprotected on SeaSpider Island.
He at least wanted to wait for that witch Shea-Ann to return so he could have the pleasure of gagging her annoying mouth and chaining her next to Sparrow for a few days. When he and the princess left, he might not even untie Shea-Ann. He shook his head, his smile fading. He couldn't do that, or else Sparrow might really never bed him again.
By the time he returned to the house, Sparrow was asleep on her blankets, her delicate lips parted, one hand cus.h.i.+oning her cheek. The dishes and laundry were washed and piled neatly beside the basin. He collected the laundry and hung it on a line outside then leaned against the wall and stared at Sparrow for a long time before flopping on the bed and gazing at the ceiling. He remembered the feeling of her body against his, her soft b.r.e.a.s.t.s rubbing against his chest. His c.o.c.k swelled just thinking about it.
d.a.m.n the little b.i.t.c.h! She was supposed to be the one suffering and there he lay alone with a body scarred beyond repair and an erection so hard he could have used it to fight a duel.
Sparrow made a soft sound in her sleep, and he glanced at her. Maybe now that she was sleepy, she'd be easier to convince. He dropped one foot to the floor, then changed his mind. He was not about to beg s.e.xual favors from a woman he had chained up.
He couldn't believe he was having such difficulty. He'd spent enough years as a wh.o.r.e that he should have been able to seduce anyone.
Still gazing at her, he drifted to sleep.
The next morning, Lock arose before Sparrow. He left her food and fresh water before attending the farm work.
”I've known b.i.t.c.hes in my life, but she's the worst. Why? That d.a.m.ned sweetness. She makes it impossible to hate her completely,” Lock said as he squeezed Daphne's udder, filling a pail. He paused and curled his lip. ”Now she's got me talking to a cow. I really have to think about getting out of here before I lose what's left of my mind.”
When he finished milking Daphne, he turned her out in the field along with the horses. It was then he noticed the fence which kept the pigs and chickens was damaged. He decided to mend it before beginning any of the more time-consuming work.
He retrieved Sparrow's box of tools from the barn and set to work. As soon as he stepped over the fence, one of the pigs, a fat grayish male, approached, grunting.
”What do you want?” Lock snapped, choosing a hammer and placing the rest of the tools aside. No sooner had he stood when his legs were knocked out from under him. He landed on his back in the mud, the pig staring at him from a short distance away.
”I'm going love eating you when slaughter time comes.” Lock sat up. When he rose, the pig took a step closer. Lock and the pig stared at each other. Lock put one foot forward, and the pig took two more steps, looking ready to charge.
”This is crazy.” Lock stood to his full height and the pig galloped toward him.
Lock dove over the fence and the pig dropped onto the mud, grunting with contentment.
I'll be d.a.m.ned if I let a pig tell me where I can and cannot go. Again he stepped over the fence and picked up the hammer. The pig charged, but this time Lock jumped on top of it, straddling the fat, muddy back and gripping the small, flopping ears. The pig fought worse than a wild stallion he'd tamed in his youth.
”Son of a swine!” Lock's legs tightened around the pig's slippery sides. He slid backwards off the pig, splas.h.i.+ng in the mud and scattering the chickens. Lock pushed himself onto his elbows and blew at a chicken feather stuck to the tip of his muddy nose. He brushed it away and raised himself to a squat, facing down the pig for the second time.
When the animal attacked, he caught it in an unbreakable hold, clinging to the dirty body, half running, half dragging, until the pig finally tired.
Panting, Lock picked up the hammer and pointed it at the swine. ”If your mistress is as easy to break, I'll be a happy man.”
He suddenly heard Sparrow shouting for him from the house. Thinking more thieves might have broken in while he'd been fighting with the pig, he bounded over the fence, raced across the yard and burst into the house.
Sparrow stood, her hands on her hips, her eyes sweeping over him and demanded, ”What in the name of the G.o.ddess is going on out there?”
Sparrow stared at Lock, torn between disgust and laughter. From head to boot, he was completely covered in mud. He looked like he'd swum in it, and from the sound of his shouting and the pig's squealing, she wondered if he'd done just that.
”What kind of a pervert are you?” she demanded. ”What were you doing with my pigs?”
He pointed a finger at her, his eyes blazing. ”Not what you're thinking girl, even though the pigs would probably be more accommodating than you!”
”It didn't seem that way two nights ago!” she snapped. ”You seemed to thoroughly enjoy yourself at my expense!”
”And I suppose you nearly squeezed me to death with your legs just because you wanted the exercise?”
Sparrow felt heat rise in her face. If she hadn't been chained, she would have clawed his beautiful blue eyes out. ”It would take a deep sea octopus to squeeze you to death, you oversized lout!”
”Why did you call me in here? I have work to do on my farm.”
”This is my farm! You're my slave! And I didn't buy you to ruin my hard work!”
”I'm trying to repair your d.a.m.ned fence and that devil's swine thinks he owns the run out there!”
”Giving you trouble, is he?”
”Like everything else on this b.l.o.o.d.y farm. I've made up my mind we're going to the Archipelago.”
”This is my home! I'm not going anywhere.”
”So you're rather stay and be tortured?”
”All I know is that I'm not going anywhere with you, least of all to the Archipelago where I'll have to suffer as your love slave!”
”Suffer? Those sure as h.e.l.l weren't moans of pain I was hearing the other night.”
”You're a boor!” Sparrow's fists clenched so tightly her hands ached. He made her angrier than she'd ever been in her entire life. Still, she forced herself to feign calmness as she said, ”I suppose it's not your fault. How would someone of your ill breeding know how to treat a lady?”
”Still think you're a princess?” He stepped across the room and yanked her into his arms, his muddy lips covering hers.
Sparrow punched his shoulders, but he grasped her arms and forced them to her sides. She felt mud drenching her clothes. His were plastered to his body with the grimy brown liquid. In spite of the smell of pigs and dirt, Sparrow couldn't help thinking the sensation of his slippery skin and hard muscles was incredibly arousing. He loosened his hold and she shoved him as hard as she could, frustrated that she didn't move him a bit. He smiled, his teeth gleaming against his muddy face, grabbed a change of clothes, and headed for the door.
”You make sure you go swimming again before you come home!” she bellowed after him. ”Filthy pig!”
Sparrow did her best to clean her own soiled body with the leftover dishwater, but she had no fresh clothes to wear, and soon the mud dried to a hard sh.e.l.l on her tunic.
”d.a.m.n him,” she muttered, glancing at the dirty garment. It was the only dress she had. There wasn't much use for dresses while working a farm, but she kept one for village gatherings. Now it was going to be filthy and tattered from use, as Lock gave no sign of providing her with fresh clothes. She'd have to ask for them. The other night, when they'd slept together, she thought she was falling in love with him. Now she almost hated him. Almost. Why couldn't she hate him completely? What was it about him that lured her like a cat to cream?
When he came home that evening, he was clean, his hair damp from swimming.
He stepped halfway across the room and paused, wrinkling his nose. ”Smells like a pigpen in here.”
Sparrow felt anger twist her stomach and she said, ”I wonder why? Look what you did to my dress!”
He approached, his arms folded across his chest, and studied her with a shrewd expression she had come to know all too well. ”We can't have you reeking, can we, Princess? How about a bath and a change of clothes?”
Sparrow hesitated. ”I don't trust you, Lock.”
Ignoring her, he began carrying in buckets of water, heating them, and filling the tub. She watched the tub with longing eyes, more cautious than ever about his sudden kindness.
When the bath was ready, he opened the trunk at the foot of her bed and searched through her bag of soaps. He sniffed one cake which she knew to be rose-scented and asked, ”This one?”