Authors: Lizbeth Dusseau
“Please
let me go,” she said timidly.
“Maybe,”
Burt said. He eased off a bit with the knife, but he didn’t loosen his grasp on
Abigail’s wrist. “This the one that gave you the money?”
“No one
gave me the money, Burt,” Darcy said.
He looked from
Darcy to Abigail and back again. “I think you’re lying. This is the missus
from up the road. These fine clothes. You were staying with her, and all of a
sudden you have my money. I’d bet. . “
“Burt,
you have your money,” Darcy said. “What more do you want?”
“I want
it all,” he said.
“What’s
that suppose to mean?” Darcy replied.
“I
thought that the hundred was all I’d get from you. But now that I see what a
fine
wellheeled
lady that we have here, I know
there’s a lot more.”
“Please,
I don’t have a penny,” Abigail informed him.
“Oh?
Where’d you get the last?”
“Please.
I couldn’t possibly,” she protested.
“Listen,
Bart,” Darcy said with her eyes going dark as coal, her temperament filled
with a biting fire. “Let her go. This is my argument, not hers. I swear
you do anything to hurt her, I’ll kill you!”
“My, how
bold
you are, when it’s a knife at her neck,” he
sneered.
“Burt,
you’re being stupid,” Darcy went on. Abigail could tell that Darcy was
nervous, the little twitch in her jaw, her fin
gers
clenching and relaxing. But they were gestures that the man didn’t notice.
“I’ll
tell you what,” Burt said. “I’ll let her go, but she’d better be
coming back tonight with another pocketful of cash, or she could assume that
her dear Darcy is going to have a very rough night.” Burt jerked Abigail
towards him and then released her. “You hear me, little lass?”
“Yes, I
hear you.”
“Abby,
don’t pay any attention to him,” Darcy said. “He won’t hurt me. He
can’t. Now go.”
Abigail stood
stock still for what seemed like an eternity. Her mind had gone blank. Not
filled with options, or immersed in a thousand quandaries of how to get out of
the wretched predicament, there was not a single thought in her brain. Never
had her life been so threatened. All she could think of was the miracle of her
husband’s face rising behind the old man. But that didn’t happen.
“Abby go,
run!” Darcy called to her.
Shaken into
consciousness again, she looked about, thinking of flight, but not yet moving.
“Abigail,
run!” Darcy shouted at her. With that, Abigail legs began to move swiftly,
taking her out of the barn and towards the road.
“Don’t
you dare come back!” Darcy shouted more.
“You will
if you want to see your friend alive!” Burt yelled.
Abigail turned
back to see the devious drunkard clutching Darcy’s arm in his and hauling her
at knife point toward the interior of the barn.
Abigail didn’t
catch her breath until she was in her own yard. One glance up the hill toward
the mill, she was thankful to see that Aaron had not yet arrived home. And
after all, he shouldn’t be home, it was hardly three o’clock. Standing for
sometime by her
windfilled
laundry flapping on the
line, she contemplated her last hour, knowing that as much as she desired this
horror to be over, the situation was more dire than ever. She couldn’t leave
Darcy to the wiles of that awful man, but what recourse did she have? She could
confess everything to Aaron, but with the vivid chastisement she’d received
earlier in the day still fresh in her mind, she couldn’t imagine what the
outcome might be.
Finally going
inside the house, she put some water on for tea and sat down to think. Her
brooding seemed to lead in circles there being no end to the dilemma that
swirled about her. To save Darcy was the most important thing. But how to do
it? Thinking of the scoundrel, Burt, she suspected that his bravado was more
the liquor in his system than real threats. He wanted more money, and saw a way
in her to have it. If only she could give him something to placate him. Money
was out of the question. She wouldn’t take from the mill again. But some
bauble? A mildly valuable piece that he could trade for cash. Why wouldn’t that
work?
There was
little of great value in the Barrow household. Aaron was a simple man, and
Abigail had never wanted much jewelry and fancy things not the way her mother
did. But perusing the house, she finally made her way to a small box of
trinkets that she’d kept hidden in her bureau. There was nothing special there,
except one old broach that her Aunt had given her on her wedding day. The
setting was a horror, and she’d never wear it, but there was obvious value in
the obsidian stone, enough perhaps to appease the seedy scoundrel that was
holding Darcy hostage.
Making her
choice quickly, Abigail wondered if she’d have time enough to get back to the
barn before Aaron arrived home. However that decision was quickly made when she
heard her husband’s footsteps downstairs.
“Is that
you?” she called to him from the upstairs hallway.
“And who
else would it be?” Aaron blared up at her.
Fast returning
the broach to its box, she made her way down the stairs to her husband’s
waiting arms.
“My, what
a change in you!” she exclaimed, feeling the warmth from his generous hug.
“Ah! I
was rough on you today,” he said, “as well I should be, but perhaps
we can put that aside for awhile.”
“Oh, I’d
be happy for that,” Abigail replied. She tucked her head into his chest so
that she could feel the beat of his strong, powerful heart. It was some comfort
amid her terror. If only it could steady her until she had Darcy out of danger.
“My,
love, you’re trembling,” Aaron said, noticing her shivering shoulders. He
pulled her away from him just enough to see her face. Tears that she’d not
expected were running down her cheeks.
“I’m
sorry about today, Aaron, I really am. I guess there’s always been a defiant
streak in me. And I know you want to tame it so it doesn’t get me in
trouble.”
“How well
you understand,” Aaron agreed with her.
She was on the
verge of telling him everything even though it might mean another session with
his belt. But Aaron was thinking other things, of how aroused he was, how his
loins were aching to satisfy the raw need that had built up over the day. He
was used to Abigail being just as aroused by a session with his belt, and
expected her to respond to him eagerly. To not respond … it was out of the question.
Gathering her
up in his arms, Aaron mounted the stairs taking his wife to bed. His hands were
on her everywhere, under her skirt, kneading her once
wellworked
bottom cheeks, caressing her breasts, and finding his way between her thighs
where she was warm and moist. He fondled her gently and sometimes rudely as if
to remind her he was dominant, and who would be in control though that was
hardly a matter of concern. Abigail was as compliant as a lamb, hoping this
union with her husband would heal the rift that had occurred that day.
Pressing his
erection between her opened thighs, he entered her, hearing the sweet sounds of
bliss from her lips, as she moved with him to a sharp and vivid climax. Their
pleasure was extended long after the moment as they lay for awhile in each
other’s arms, until Abigail was reminded of the prickly dilemma of Darcy and
the awful man that held her life in his hands. Just about that moment her
sleepy husband opened his eyes and gazed on her.
“You look
beautiful, my love,” he said, softly. “And I’d love to stay here all
day with you, but … “
“You have
to go back to the mill,” she finished for him.
His kissed her
tenderly on the forehead. “Afraid so,” he said. “But at least
you know I still love you.”
“You were
rather harsh with me this morning,” Abigail conceded.
“Because
you earned it,” he said sternly as he rose from the bed. “But that’s
all in the past love, as long as you’ve learned your lesson.”
Oh! She wished
she had though she knew the moment she heard his words that she’d be violating
his edict as soon as she possibly could.
It was just
after midnight. The moon was high in the sky, the round orb sending its light
to earth, the beams of it coming through_ the window shining across Abigail’s
face, as she lay awake. Awake, not just for the light in her eyes, but because
she was waiting. Every minute that ticked by was a minute of dread, as she
wondered how Darcy was faring with Burt. If only she hadn’t been sick, she was
sure her friend would have accomplished some escape. But in her weakened
condition, Abigail wasn’t sure if Darcy had the strength to throw off the man
with the knife.
Abigail knew
what she had to do. As soon as she was sure that her husband was sleeping
soundly beside her, Abigail planned to sneak out and go to Darcy, take the
broach to Burt, and hope that it would be enough to get rid of him. And yet the
longer she waited, the more she dreaded her task.
Finally
hearing the gentle sounds of her deep sleeping husband, Abigail carefully
pulled the covers back and crept from bed. With her heart pounding the whole
time, she opened her drawer and pulled out the jewelry box, taking the Obsidian
broach from inside. Noiselessly returning the box to its place, she turned to
find the dress she’d laid out before they’d gone to bed. Throwing it over her
head, she pocketed the broach and then picked up her boots. With one sidelong
glance at Aaron, just to make sure he hadn’t stirred, she slipped quietly out
of the room and closed the door. Down the stairs and through the house, she
tiptoed barefoot to the kitchen door, then slipped her boots on her feet.
The kitchen
door creaked when she opened it. Waiting for an instant just outside, she
listened for any noise from upstairs, any signs at all that Aaron had heard her
leave. Then thinking she was safe to make her fast exit, she pattered down the
back steps and into the yard.
While the full
moon lit her path, she was anxious to take cover under the trees on the other
side of the yard. She had the weirdest feeling that from some corner of the
property or even the house, she was being watched. The chill racing up her
spine made her shiver. What if it was Aaron? But that couldn’t be, he was
sleeping like a babe. Maybe it was Burt himself having followed her home hoping
to rob her house as they slept, or worse yet, slit her throat and leave her to
die? So petrified, she almost turned around and retraced her steps, but
something else together halted her progress.
“Abigail!”
She heard her husband’s shout rise above the din of voices in her head.
“Abigail! She heard the second shout again when she didn’t immediately
halt.
Good God! What
should I do now! She lamented.
Her head was
spinning, her feet hardly seeming to touch the ground, and then as if some
spirit outside her was help
ing
her make the
decision, she stumbled over a rock and fell to the ground. By the time her
senses awakened from the sudden jolt, Aaron was fast moving across the yard
pulling his britches up around his waist, a shirt around his chest.
“Where
the hell do you think you’re going!” he blared at her.
Aaron never
swore at her, though she hardly expected anything less considering the
situation.
“I was .
. . ” she started, but then stopped, not knowing what to say.
“You have
exactly two seconds to tell me the entire truth,” he said.
Her hesitation
was much longer than that, and before she could begin speaking, Aaron’s strong
arm had pulled her to her feet. He hauled her a few yards away, where he sat
down on the stump of a fallen tree. Going over his lap a second later, Abigail
was howling, trying to get him to stop; but his hands and purpose were far too
sure for her. He began spanking her behind with a flurry of angry strikes.
Pausing only to raise her skirt so that he could have her naked bottom to
paddle, he began again, laying on each sharp, nasty stroke with relish. After
several minutes of the howling, smacking, wriggling conflict, he finally
stopped though he did not let her up.
“You have
an answer for me now!” he barked, as his spanking hand rested on her hot
behind.
“Aaron,
yes, yes I do,” she filled the sliver of a second he was giving her to
speak. She could tell his hand was poised and ready to spank her more.
“I want
the truth, and nothing less,” he warned.
“Yes,
yes, I promise,” she gulped. Her vow to keep the silence about Darcy had
to end. There was just no other choice. And still, that decision made, she
found no words. Two sharp smacks of Aaron’s hand against her bottom stung hot,
reminding her of Aaron’s command.
“I was
going to Darcy,” she finally blurted out.
“You
what!” He spanked her twice more.
“She’s
hold up in a barn down the road a piece. You remember that old burned out
house?”
“What in
heaven’s name is she doing there?”
“Oh,
Aaron, it’s all so complicated.”