Catherine (Echoes of Ossiria #1) (3 page)

“I didn’t.”

“Ya-huh, and that
translates to
tons
of experience. But I don’t want to scare you with all
the details. Right now, we’re going to talk Finance, and then I’ll give you
your sex homework, ‘kay?”

When they did get
to sex education, Alicia was completely shameless.
 
She had diagrams, and props, and stories…all
displayed matter-of-factly and with complete abandon.
 

Catherine had
never blushed so much in her life.
 
“TMI”
seriously came to mind!

Chapter Two

After eight hours
of lessons, Catherine was allowed to go back to her room.
 
She studied for a few hours, then a servant
came to tell her to prepare to go running.
 
Cursing, she hunted through the boxes for sweats and trainers.

She found William
outside.

“Four laps around
the house is a mile. I want you to do two miles,” he said.
 
She grimaced, but started jogging.
 
“And I better not catch you walking any of
it!”

At the end of
eight laps, he stopped her and stared, then ordered her to do another
four.
 

She stopped after
five miles, not from muscle fatigue, but from wheezing.

“Are you on
medication?”

She shook her head
“no”, unable to speak, yet.
 
England was a lot colder than California and she wasn’t used to this much
exercise.

“Sit, before you
fall down, for
chrissakes
!”
 
He
tossed her a bottle of water.
 
“Go inside
and shower. Supper is in thirty minutes.”

Catherine nodded
and stumbled inside.
 
She barely made it
to the third floor.
 
Her legs felt like
lead.

Showering actually
meant standing in the old fashioned claw-foot tub and using a spray nozzle to
hose off, so she took a bath, instead.
 
And fell asleep.
 

Her eyes opened
when she had five minutes to be down in the dining room.
 
“Shit!”

She scrambled to
dry off, putting her clothes on from earlier in the day, and ran down the
stairs, skidding into the room and her seat just as William sat down at the
head of the table.

“You’re late.”

By seconds,
maybe
, she grumbled internally.

“Not on my watch,”
Alicia chirped.
 
He glared at her, but
she only grinned.

“Dinner, sir,” one
of the servants said, setting a plate in front of him.
 
Other servants set plates down in front of
the rest at the same time.

Catherine was
served a chicken breast with fresh lemon, steamed vegetables, and a glass of
white wine.
 
Was she supposed to drink
that?
 
In the U.S., she wasn’t old enough for
another three years.
 
The others at the
table also seemed to have customized dishes.
 

She didn’t know
who the other women were, let alone what species.
 
One had quills instead of hair.
 
Another was wrapped in robes except for her
eyes, which were serpent yellow.
 
None of
them spoke, waiting for William to start eating before touching their plates.

She kept her eyes
on her food, practicing what Mrs. Crumb had drilled into her head, but she
could feel William’s eyes watching her.
 

Alicia chattered
away about end-quarter projections or some such.
 

Dessert eventually
came—a lime ice for the human—and it was torture for her.
 
William and Alicia were served rich, gooey,
chocolate cake that smelled like heaven.
 
Catherine was painfully reminded that she wouldn’t get to do her nightly
stop at the café for hot chocolate and a pastry ever again.
 
She hoped she would be excused at the end of
dinner.

The others got to
go watch television when they were done.
 
She was locked in her room with more books and fell asleep with the
demon encyclopedia in her lap.

The first week was
a blur of lessons, studying, jogging four miles, and more studying.
 
Somehow, she managed to retain enough to
satisfy their quizzes.
 

The night schedule
was hard to adjust to.
 
Her body still
wanted to wake up when it was fully light, and she had to force herself back to
sleep again.
 

At the end of that
week, when she showed up heavy-lidded with dark circles under her eyes, William
called her on it.
 
“You’re not sleeping.”

“Not well, sir.”

“Why not?”

“The hours, sir. I
keep waking up when it’s daylight.”
 
And
she wanted to be at
home
.
     

He sighed, and
paced in front of her for a moment, before declaring, “Your hours will be
adjusted.”

“Thank you, sir.”

William grumbled
and left the classroom.

A new schedule was
on her bed when she came back from her run.
 
It was handwritten in old-fashioned text with the slant of a leftie.

Your sleeping
hours are now 1:00AM to 9:00AM.
 
Don’t
make me regret showing you leniency.

She sighed in
relief and changed clothes for dinner.
 

Maybe William
wasn’t such a bad guy, after all…or maybe he was merely protecting the client’s
investment.
 
She couldn’t figure him
out.
 
He was always stern and bossy, but
at times, he almost seemed…compassionate.

Week Two

Catherine’s eyes
widened in terror at the announcement of week two’s new focus.
 
William wanted her to learn how to
dance.
 
She
didn’t
dance.
 
Bobbed her head while sitting at a table,
yeah, but
no dancing.
 

“Put your eyes
back in your sockets, girl, it’s only two waltzes.”
 
He smiled devilishly.
 
“The real challenge for this week will be
learning how to
fight
.”

Okay, she took
back everything she’d thought about him being not so bad.
 

William was
positively
evil
.
 
Couldn’t he tell
she had two left feet?
 
Apparently, he
didn’t care, since a set of dancewear and heels were on her bed the next time
she was sent back to her room.
 
She
seconded the “evil” assumption when she put on the new clothes, a tank top and
leggings that left little to the imagination.
 
She tied a hoodie around her waist in case the room was cold.

Another surprise
of the house was that it contained an actual small dance studio, complete with
a mirrored wall and ballet barre.
 
She
walked into the room in her heeled dance shoes and saw William waiting for her,
wearing a black button-down shirt and slacks.

He walked over to
a stereo system and turned on a piece of classical music.
 
“Come all the way in, girl, you’re wasting
time! Now, the waltz is the simplest and easiest of the ballroom dances. It
runs on three-quarter time.
One
-two-three,
one
-two-three…”

She nodded her
head in time to the beat of the music, earning a small approving smile.
 
He walked over to her and started positioning
her arms.

“Your arms are to
be held high, like this, but with your shoulders still down and back. Now, you
will
always
place them this way with your partner.”
 
William placed her left hand on his shoulder
and clasped her right out to the side.
 
“This hand that’s out from the body always points in the direction
you’ll go, so to start, you will step your right foot to the side, then bring
your left to meet it, and take a tiny step with the right again. This puts your
left foot ready to repeat the process. All to the one-two-three. Your partner
will either start you to the side, or lead you forward. It’s important to match
your partner’s steps so you don’t mash anyone’s toes. Now, let’s begin.”

Catherine tried
remembering what he said while watching his feet.

“Head up! Look at
me, or over my shoulder, but never down at the floor.”
 
William tapped the bottom of her chin with
the command.

She immediately
obeyed, and got caught in his intense blue eyes.
 
Uh-oh…
 
She kicked his boot with the tow of her shoe.

“
Oi
! Watch the leather!”

“Sorry!”
 
So, she stepped on his other foot.

William changed
tactics.
 
“Relax, girl. Focus on how I’m
moving as I lead you. You can feel where I want you to go.”

She nodded and
took a breath.
 
“Okay…”

She relaxed her
arms so she wasn’t fighting him with her stiffness and focused on the points
they were connected—her hand on his shoulder, his hand on her waist, their
hands entwined…
 

He was right.
 
The gentle pressure he used told her exactly
when he was moving and she should move, and let her absorb the music as part of
it, too.
 

Step
, step,
step…
 
Step
, step, step…

“Now, you’ve got
the hang of it. You notice how the rhythm naturally encourages you to step on
the ball of your foot, not heel-toe. That’s where your weight should be for
every dance, like you’re stepping on clouds.” he said.
 
“Ready for a twirl?”

“Not yet! How does
the dance end?”

His eyes were
twinkling at her as he said, “With the twirl.”

“Oh. You mentioned
before, another kind of dance?”

“The Viennese
Waltz, but you don’t want to do that, yet.”

“I don’t?”

“It’s double the
speed of this one, with turns,” he said, grinning, then laughed when her eyes
bugged out in horror.

He actually has
a nice laugh
.

“We’ll get to that
tomorrow. I’m going to show you the turn now.”

By the end of the
hour, she was enjoying herself, and William wasn’t a bad teacher.
 

The butterflies in
her stomach took flight again, however, when he announced that fight training
was her next station.

“Harder!”

“I’m
trying
!”

“What was that?”
he growled.

“Yes, sir!”
Catherine said, realizing she’d slipped out of her role.

William was making
her punch a padded dummy over and over with boxing gloves on.
 
It felt funny, and she wasn’t the violent
type.
 
She didn’t want to hit anybody.

He seemed to read
her mind.
 
“It doesn’t matter if you
don’t
want
to hit anything, Miss Mitchell. The day will come when you
have
to. Now, commit!”

“Dance Instructor
William” had now been replaced by “Drill Sergeant William”.
 
She didn’t like him very much.
   

“Stop, stop! I
have an idea.”
 
She waited while he left
the room and came back a minute later.
 
He taped a piece of paper to the bag.
 
It was a crudely drawn face in black marker.
 
Catherine recognized exactly who it was
supposed to be.
 
“Go ahead, girl. It’ll
be our little secret. God knows, I haven’t slugged ‘
im
nearly as much as
I’ve
wanted to.”
 

She hit the face
and made the bag sway ever-so-slightly.
 

“Good! Harder!”

Right, right,
and a left!
 
Once she got started, it
felt good to keep hitting that image, giving the pretend-
Tallis
punishment for every demeaning word and touch he’d subjected her to.

“There’s where
you’ve been hiding your fire…” William said.
 
“Over to the mat, now. Let’s work on somethin’ different.”
 
He pulled the gloves off Catherine’s hands,
then handed her a big foam-covered stick.
 
She quirked her brow.
 
“Bo staff.
Easier to start with than a sword.”
 
He
held one identical to it.
 
“Show me what
ya got.”

“Huh?”

He rolled his
eyes.
 
“Follow your instincts. Come at
me.”

“Sir…”

“Attack me, Miss
Mitchell, or you’ll be cleaning the kitchen floor with your tongue.”

She gulped, then
edged forward to hesitantly tap his arm with the stick.
 
William looked at the staff, then at her,
arching his brow.
 
He extended one arm
with a lightning-fast movement, knocking her down with the end of his staff.

“Take this
seriously, will you?”

Catherine got up,
rubbing her arm and pouting.

“Aww, does poor
little Cate have a bruise?” he taunted.

“Don’t call me
that,” she muttered.

“You say
something,
Catie
?”

“No, sir.”
 
She kept her eyes on the floor as he circled
her like the predator he was.

“I think you did,
little Cate… You gonna hit me, or stare at your bloody toes all day?”

Don’t let him
get to you; don’t let him get to you…

It was one thing
to learn how to throw a punch, another to actually use a weapon on another
being.
 
Her parents had always taught her
to resolve conflicts with words, and if she had to, run.
 

William started
poking her with the Bo as he walked around her, just hard enough to be annoying.
 
“Hit me, hit me, hit me, hit me…”

“No,” she ground
out.

“
No?
You
don’t get to say ‘no’ to anything, sweetheart. Well, I’m sure you’ll say it
plenty to
Tallis
when he rips into your sweet
cunny
, but—”