Forbidden

She feels it every time she sits or stands... or moves. She caught site of the bruise on her hip getting ready for a bath, the reflection of her battered body causing silent tears to slide down her face. It was ghastly, all black and blue and purple, standing out against the creamy white of her skin. She stared at it in the mirror for too long, memories of the night coming back to her. The ****, the cruelty, the anger. In all her life she’d never been treated thus - and the orphanage had by no means been a friendly or happy place.

Robert Hall is a dangerous man. Beyond dangerous. Which is why, as Anna slid into the bath, careful to bite her lip against the pain and not wake the manor, she made her decision.

She will not help him, in whatever it is he wished her to do. If he wanted to play games with her, she would stay one step ahead. Mind set, tomorrow she would go to Master Marriott with her head held high, and tell him the truth - of her attack at the hands of his guest Mr. Hall.

But now it is tomorrow, and as she sits at her windowsill, watching the morning sun rise steadily over a hill beyond the vale, she wavers in her decision. While Marriott is indeed a good master, he is still a man. And as such, he’s prone to defensiveness and arrogance. If she were to go to him, telling him of the harm that came to her because of his guest, he may very well be **** to choose between a powerful friend or a silly governess. His belief in her story, inconsequential.

Tears began welling up again and she scoffed, roughly rubbing them away before stomping over to her wardrobe. She refuses to cry anymore over that animal. The white sleeping gown slips from her shoulders, pooling at her feet. Heady, unwanted images of the night before swirl in her mind as she stares at her naked reflection.

She can still feel the solidness of his body, the masculinity of it compared to the pliant softness of her own. She’s never felt a man so close before, never had one touch her in any way except in politeness.

Eyes still on herself, she skims her hand up her thigh, slow and timid until she reaches the smooth plane of her stomach, just below her navel. Fingers trembling, she glides them hesitantly down her skin, brows furrowed in concentration and curiosity. The lower she travels the crazier her heart beats, a warning she thinks, but she doesn’t heed it.

It feels different as her fingers brush against herself. Not... enjoyable. No heat or delectable neediness she felt the night before. She sighs, letting her hand drop to her side, frustrated with how turned around she feels. Is that what it was then, she wonders? Was she sick to have felt the strange thrill she did, caused only by overwhelming fear of pain and humiliation?

She dresses quickly, no longer wanting to look at herself that way - think of herself that way. It was just too confusing and distressing. So instead she wraps it up in linen and fabric, a grey, somber dress to ward off anymore thoughts of her body and how Mr. Hall had awoken a feeling within it that only he could apparently.

—————

“Anna,” Mary gasps, fingers wrapping firm yet gentle around her governess’ forearm, holding it in place as she inspects it.

Anna peers up at her with worry, the book she’d been handing off to the girl forgotten.

“What happened to you?” She scoots closer in the grass, John now looking up at them with interest.

Anna follows the young girl’s eyes to where the sleeve of her dress has run up, revealing an ugly, mottled bruise around her wrist. She drops the book with haste, not caring about having lost the page for their lesson, and tugged the sleeve back down.

“Nothing.” She gives an open smile, trying to appear carefree. The dubious look on Mary’s face tells her she hasn’t succeeded. “Honestly poppet, I’m not even certain where it came from.”

“Has someone hurt you?” John questions, standing beside her, and it’s beginning to feel like she’s defending herself for her injuries.

She chuckles, trying to add levity to the situation. “Of course not. Why would someone want to hurt me?” she asserts.

“You’ve another on your other wrist,” John points out.

Anna eyes her other wrist with dread, melancholy wrapping tighter around her, encroaching slow and methodical ever since the night before.

With a sad smile she hides her wrist behind her back. “It’s alright,” she maintains weakly, and she knows it isn’t enough for them, but she’s nothing else to give.

—————

She’d been successfully avoiding the men’s group all day, taking the children’s lesson outside in the morning - she thought French lessons mixed very well with fresh air - and taking them back in once she was told the group had gone out riding.

But there was nothing she could do come evening, everyone would be under the same roof. Though thankfully the manor was rather large, so it shouldn’t be too difficult to evade certain people.

Which is why she’s startled enough to scream when Mr. Hall simply says her name as she exits the kitchens. She’d been searching for something to eat, having forgone dinner with the housekeeper, Mrs. Flynn, unable to politely socialize anymore today.

She hadn’t seen him while walking out, her mind too busy thinking about... well, him. All the while, he’d been leaning against the wall beside the doorway, waiting for her to leave. And now Robert Hall chuckles at her like a bully as she tries to compose herself, hoping that the sudden burst of fear she’d felt was truly unneeded. She knew now that with him one never knew.

“Where were you today, Anna?”

She blinks at him, wondering if he’s playing with her. “With the children, of course.”

He nods, pushing away from the wall, standing straight and tall, searching down at her expression with seriousness. “All day?”

Her heart begins to hammer rapid and with a strength that makes her fear he can hear it. Stomach clenching, she tries to remember if she’d done anything that would anger him, to make her fear him even more, and she comes up blank.

“Yes.”

The sound of his boots are loud in the silent darkness of the room, reverberating around them as he steadily makes his way closer towards her, hands folded behind his back.

She felt like prey - his prey.

“Surely they don’t require you all day? You’re not a nanny, after all, only a governess.”

She wasn’t certain what he was getting at - what he was searching for - and the uncertainty of it made her breath rush faster, burning her lungs from within. She didn’t answer - couldn’t. So she said nothing at all, clenching the apple she held in her hands.

She felt the knock of the tip of his boots against her own as he came to stand close before her, eyes penetrating into her very soul. She swallowed hard, face running hot under his gaze.

“Because I get the distinct impression that you were avoiding me today, Anna.” With a tilt of his head his face softens, almost as if he cares how she will answer. “Am I right?”

She drops her head swiftly, unable to bear his scrutiny any longer. “Sir,” she began with a tremulous voice, “you asked me to keep the children away from you-”

“No, I demanded it.”

“Yes- yes, sir,” she stumbles out. “So that is what I did.”

He sighs, no **** on his breath that she can detect, and she hopes that means it will not be a repeat of the previous night.

“I asked the children be kept away. Not you.”

“Sir-”

“I will see you tomorrow, Anna,” he interrupts, tone not allowing for any argument. And she certainly does not wish to bring out such a thing, meekly answering with a yes, sir.

“Besides,” he starts, sounding almost cheerful as he snatches the apple from her hand, making her frown up at him with indignation. “I have a task for you.”

With that, he takes a bite, the snap of his teeth slicing into the fresh fruit making her mouth water.

Chewing thoughtfully, he smirks. “Apologies. You must be hungry. I heard from Mrs. Flynn that you were too unwell to appear for dinner. I do hope it’s nothing serious, Anna.”

Nose flaring, she glares at him, wishing she could cause his **** from a look alone.

He merely chuckles at her show of anger. “Well, let me share my spoils with you then.”

Anger morphs into a panicked confusion when he holds forth the apple near her lips. The sickly sweet smell invades her senses, while the heat of his eyes and body surrounds her, all of it working together, making her dizzy.

“Take a bite,” he whispers.

At first she can do nothing but stare up at him, at a loss for what’s happening. Is this moment even real, she wonders? She finds herself enough to shake her head, slow and mindless like an idiot.

His expression turns dark, blue eyes sharp on her. “Bite it,” he growls, low and husky.

Hands shaking, she lifts them to his proffered one, cupping the back of it gently bringing it closer as her teeth sink into the crisp fruit, the taste exploding on her tongue as the juice swirls in her mouth.

“Chew, Anna.”

His eyes never leave hers as she does as he instructs, fingers still resting on the back of his hand.

“Good girl.” A warmth pools between her legs at the praise, heart floating up into her throat as she tries to swallow around it.

He drops his hand, her own falling with it, but he raises his other to gently wipe away the sticky juice on the tip of her nose with a long finger.

“Find me tomorrow.” It’s said soft and kind, but she knows it’s an order still and she nods silently.