River

Gregor

I am longing to be home, but I know I have to take care of all of these loose ends. I created this entire situation, I can’t just leave everything hanging. After I finished telling Samuel and Rosalind about the secrets I had been keeping, it was Rosalind who told me that I should go into town and try to resolve the situation with Ben. She assured me she would be fine. Besides, I know Mason is nowhere nearby and Rosalind is perfectly safe. Moses and Nadine have both volunteered to stay at home with her and Jake until I can return tonight. So there really isn’t anything to worry about.

But I am just weary from everything that has happened, and only want the solace of being in the orbit of Rosalind’s tranquility. And to continue to adjust to the new knowledge that she can break out of her placid nature and become quite ferocious when necessary. My lovable, plump little warrior, that I want so much to be holding right now.

Just a couple of more things. I deserve the ribbing that I get from the men for dropping the rope. I duck my head, bashful and shamefaced, and accept all of their blame and hilarity. I make sure to shake hands with anyone that Wolk tells me got rope burns on their hands from the plunging hammer, in the hopes that a moment of my touch might help them heal quickly. I promise that they will all have a little bonus in their next week’s pay, and that they will not have to put up with my clumsiness for a couple of days at least, since I’ll be taking a bit of time off. I thank Geoffrey for his excellent work in managing the site. Then I go.

There’s nothing else I can do about Ben and Samuel. It is tragic, like all such misunderstandings are. They long for each other, deeply love each other, and have both thoroughly convinced themselves that their love is now impossible to pursue.

I didn’t really have to drag Samuel down here to examine David. Wolk has been keeping me updated, and between Samuel’s earlier treatments and my finding time to lay my hands on him numerous times today, he is out of danger. In fact he is feeling much better, will probably be able to return to work within a day or two. But I hoped to give Samuel and Ben some time to be together, maybe have a chance to talk.

It doesn’t look like that is going to happen. Samuel won’t even meet his eyes. I know that when he is finished with David, he will just quietly leave without speaking to Ben. I have no idea how they will ever work this out. I will have to leave it to them. They’ve had enough of my interference.

But for now, I have one more stop to make before I can go home.

Madam Beverly’s is busy, this being the time, after work, after supper, before midnight, when she gets most of her clientele. Men are coming in and out the front door, the parlor is buzzing with the ladies meeting with the customers before leading them up the stairs.

Beverly sees me enter from across the room, and comes over to me. “Good evening, Gregor,” she says with a practiced smile, as though I am any other customer.

“Can we talk?” I ask her.

She nods tersely and leads me back into the cupboard next to the kitchen. Good lord if I have to spend much more time squeezed in here with her having tense conversations, I am going to cry.

Wolk laughs at me.

“I am afraid that Jake has been injured,” I say, wanting to get straight to the point. “He tried to attack Mason, who punched him in the face, giving him a concussion. Jake will be fine, I have had the doctor examine him. He will need to rest quietly for a few days, and my wife has agreed to let him stay at our house while he recuperates. I will pay you for his time, of course.”

Surprisingly, she waves this off, as though she is unconcerned with the financial hardship his absence might impose. Perhaps she really does have a heart.

“Where is Mason?” she asks worriedly.

Ah, yes, she doesn’t know. This should please her. “Rosalind shot him in the leg and he ran off with one of his accomplices. I don’t expect him to return any time soon.”

“Ha!” she bursts out in a paroxysm of laughter, much to my amazement. It is a delightfully genuine display of emotion. “Rosy shot him? Good for her!”

I am feeling much more favorably inclined towards her when I leave than I ever have before.

And now, home. And Rosalind.

Rosy

Nadine has entered mother mode, and Jake has never been so well tended. He is ensconced in the guest room, looking tiny in the big bed, a cloth on his forehead, wearing a comfortable nightshirt, everything he could possibly need or want at hand. She even placed a little bell at his bedside for him to ring if he should want anything. He is slightly overwhelmed with all the attention.

He is going to be just fine.

I shooed Gregor away to go take care of everything he needed to do in town. I think it is the best thing for him, to get his mind off how worried he was about me. I don’t want him dwelling on that. And the whole story about how his friend Ben was unjustly arrested is very sad. I hope he is able to sort that out. Mason hurt people in many ways, and it sounds like Ben was another one of his victims.

We could start a club. I’m sure there are a lot of us.

I wonder where the beast ended up, but I find that I am not worried about seeing him again. It is such a relief, not to have that apprehension constantly hovering on the edge of my mind. I think that what happened today didn’t just chase away Mason. It chased away my fear as well.

It feels wonderful.

Gregor returns home, and immediately comes and pulls me into his embrace. He still hasn’t gotten over it, I can tell. He still is worried about me, thinking that I have been harmed, or I will be haunted by today’s events, or I am somehow not strong enough to cope.

I’ll fix that.

Nadine serves us a late supper, then she and Moses head home. I have thanked them both, especially Moses, for everything that they have done for us today. They feel like family to me, and I am deeply fond of both of them.

I make sure that Jake is settled in for the night. When I know he is sound asleep, I go into Gregor’s study, where he is looking over some papers.

“Come with me,” I tell him.

He looks up, surprised, but not alarmed when he sees the sultry expression on my face. “Oh!” he says, and quickly moves to follow me up the stairs.

When we get into our room, he starts to reach for me, but I push his hands away. I have to show him that I am strong, in control, that he need not worry about me. He has thought I am weak and in need of protection, some sort of fragile wilting rose. I must demonstrate that I am not. And I know exactly how to convince him.

“No,” I tell him quietly, when he looks confused as I take his hands off of me. “I am doing everything tonight. Every single thing. You must be completely quiet, so that we don’t wake up Jake. I expect you to just do what I say. I am going to take care of it all. Do you understand?”

His expression contains an enchanting combination of astonishment, confusion, and delight. He tries not to smile, tries to act like he is taking this very seriously, and says, holding his arms loose at his sides, “Yes, Rosalind.”

That’s more like it.

Slowly, I disrobe him, one garment at a time, and I hear him start to breathe quickly, shakily. He’s taking it seriously now. Every time he tries to lift a hand to help, I push it down. I want to do it all. I soon have him lying on his back on the bed. “Stay completely still,” I tell him. I look at him, his slender and muscular form reclining there, magnificent in his arousal, obediently forcing himself to remain motionless.

I take in the scene, deciding how to proceed, as he watches me with excitement written all over his face and body. His head is lying on the pillow, the headboard behind him made of vertical bars meeting a crosspiece at the top. Mischievously, I instruct him, “Hold the headboard behind you. Then don’t move.” His expression is endearing as he somehow both laughs and grits his teeth. But up his arms go, over his head, and he grasps the headboard, his hands wrapped around two of the bars.

I approach him and begin. It takes quite a while. Before long his eyes are basically rolling back in his head, and a couple of times he seems almost ready to pass out, yet he is forcing himself to remain completely still and quiet but for his wild breathing. Every time he is close to finishing I pull back and make him wait until I know he is ready for me to start again. I realize I am torturing him, but in the sweetest possible way, and I know that he is loving every second of it. I also know that he is getting my message. I am not simply someone who he needs to protect. I am his partner. Yes, he can take care of me, but he must know that I can take care of him too.

And I am.

Finally, I take mercy on him when he begs for relief, very quietly as I have commanded, but desperately, almost frantically. His hands are gripping the headboard so hard that it looks like he’s about to snap it in half. “Please, please, Rosalind,” he pleads.

I lean down and whisper into his ear. “You may move now.”

He seizes me with a gasp. I have shown him my power, and now he shows me his.

We still manage, somehow, to keep ourselves quiet.