My Captive Duchess (The Reeves of Reeves Hall #1)

Chapter 19

Jane

O ver the next few days, I settle into my new life here at Reeves Hall, my time spent mostly in the medical bay with Chloe, with the exception of luncheon and dinner. I have also been for short walks in the parkland when I have been in need of fresh air and exercise. Always during these walks, I have been followed by a guard at a distance, though thankfully I have not seen that glaring Amazon again.

Of Broek, there has been no sign. Horis is reticent when I ask, telling me simply that his brother is gone to London on business. I do not like to admit, even to myself, that I miss his glowering presence.

Sunday comes, and I am reminded yet again of my captivity, for I am left behind at Reeves Hall while Horis, Liora and Simor go to church. “You should count yourself lucky,” says Simor cheerfully as he bids me goodbye. “I wish I did not have to sit an interminable hour listening to Reverend Horton’s rambling.”

Although I am always one to count my blessings, I am afraid I cannot agree with Simor there. Faith in the good Lord is what has sustained me through each hardship of my life. Rather than joining everyone at church as would be right and proper, I have to content myself with reading some psalms and kneeling in prayer in the privacy of my room.

The following day, Horis deems Chloe improved enough to leave the medical bay. She has been given a room, with Betsy for company, which lies opposite to mine. I marvel at how quickly she is healing from her ordeal. The bandages on her head and side have been removed, only a darkened scab remaining as evidence of her accident. Later in the day, she receives a visit from Melda and Truphi, Wolkan’s twin daughters, and it is a balm to my heart to hear her joyful laugh once more as she plays with the two little girls.

Tuesday, there is still no sign of Broek, but a letter awaits me when I go down to breakfast. I am glad I am still allowed to receive correspondence. But perhaps it has already been read, and deemed safe? I break the seal and read a missive from Mr Oakley. He notes my decision to remain at Penhale Manor and informs me that the proceeds from its sale have been invested in the funds, which should increase my annual income to ￡550. He goes on to write that this ought to provide sufficient monies for the rent that I am to pay Mr Reeves. Little does he know! Nevertheless, it is reassuring to be reminded that, should I ever find a way out of this place, Chloe and I shall have the funds to live comfortably.

I hand the letter over to Liora, who waits on expectantly, and she reads it before returning it to me. Horis clears his throat. “Erm, Your Grace, there is another matter I wanted to broach,” he says timidly. “Now that you are a permanent member of our household, it is incumbent that you have a full medical check, as is mandatory for everyone here.”

I raise my brow in confusion. Why would I need this if I am in the full bloom of health? I say as much to him and he chuckles, “It is the way with us. Once every six months, each one of us undergoes a check to ensure that all is well with regards to our health. The diagnostics equipment in the medical bay can identify disease before it manifests itself as symptoms in the body. Our approach is to prevent rather than treat ill health.”

“I see,” I reply cautiously. “Very well then.”

“Good,” he smiles. “How about I see you in the medical bay in an hour?”

And that is how I come to be lying on the white cot, dressed only in a loosely fitting, thin gown that I was given to change into when I arrived. “Please stay as still as possible, Your Grace,” Horis instructs. “Shortly, the bed is going to move inside this tube where there is equipment that will take images of the inside of your body. It is painless, though you shall hear some buzzing noises for a time.” He shows me a button to the side of the cot. “Press this at any time if you feel too distressed to continue,” he says, which I do not find reassuring at all.

Nonetheless, I determine to face this unknown procedure with steely composure. That is not to say I am able to prevent my heart from leaping when I sense the cot begin to move and I find myself enclosed in this tomb-like space. Soon after, I am assaulted by red light and noise, though there is, thankfully, no pain. I close my eyes and submit to my fate, reciting a prayer for sustenance. I do not know how long I am inside this nightmare of a tomb, but finally, my ordeal is over.

The cot moves back out into its usual position in the medical bay. There, I find Horis busy at the big screen on the wall, examining various images and symbols. “So, Horis, am I at death’s door?” I ask, trying to make a feeble joke of the matter.

He turns to me with a laugh. “Nothing of the sort. You are in excellent health, Your Grace.” Well, I could have told him this. In fact, I am very sure I did. He comes towards me now holding a small implement made of glass, with a pointy metal end.

“What is that?” I ask warily.

“You will only feel a pinch, I promise,” he says in reply. “I am merely taking a small sample of your blood.”

“I remember distinctly your disdain for our doctors, and their practice of bleeding patients,” I respond tartly. I do not like the idea of being pinched and bled—and frankly, I am glad never before to have needed the services of a doctor, not even when I delivered Chloe, for then I was attended by a very capable midwife.

“And well I might be disdainful!” exclaims Horis. “Rest assured, Your Grace, that what I am about to do has nothing in common with the backward practices of your quacks. They propose to bleed their patients to rid the body of impure fluids. What nonsense! No, what I shall do is to take a very small amount of your blood so that I may examine it for signs of any ill health.”

“Then get it done quickly,” I tell him, unable to mask the nervous impatience in my voice. I am not of a saintly nature, I am afraid, nor have I ever made a claim to be. He reaches for my arm, and I feel a little more than a pinch, but then thankfully, the matter is done.

He goes away again, no doubt to have a good inquisition of my blood. I let my eyelids droop as I endeavour to return to even breaths and allow my poor heart to stop hammering in my chest.

Then, he is back once more, adjusting the cot to a sitting position. I raise a brow. “Well?” I enquire.

He comes to sit at my side and says, “There is a minor infection—nothing to worry about—but I shall give you a draught for it now. I can also administer the pregnancy prevention shot at the same time, if you wish. It is standard practice to do so, unless you are intending to procreate again in the near future.”

I stare at him as if he has grown two heads. Did I hear him correctly? He sees my look and blushes; well he might for the impertinence of the question. “I did not mean to offend,” he goes on to say. “We, over here and in our homeland, have a different perspective on morality when it comes to, erm, to sexual activity. It is accepted—nay it is even expected—that all persons who have reached adulthood are active sexually. You see, we do not need the sanctity of marriage to engage in what we see as a natural act.”

“But that is immoral!” I splutter.

“Not in our eyes,” he responds gently. “However, we do exercise caution when it comes to procreation. We believe it is in the best interest of children and our society as a whole for couples to be in a formal union before they procreate. As you are not in such a union at present, Your Grace, I would suggest administering the shot. It is painless, I promise, and will not harm you in any way. It will simply stop you from conceiving a child over the next six months.”

“I have no intention of conceiving, with or without your shot,” I state icily.

“Then will you allow me to give it to you now?”

I shrug, pretending an insouciance I do not feel. “It is no matter whether you do or not,” I proclaim loftily, “for I shall not be engaging in any immoral act. Of that you may be assured.”

He nods in understanding then fetches the medicine he is to administer. I glance at the vial in his hand suspiciously. “Only a pinch,” I say.

“Only a pinch,” he affirms. Quickly, he gets it done, and for once, he is telling the truth, for I feel only a mild discomfort. In the realm of my mind though, the discomfiture is great indeed. What sort of a people are these Uvonians if their morals are so lax as to applaud sexual congress without marriage? I had thought that a scientifically advanced society would also be advanced in other ways, but not so, it seems. I cannot help another unsettling thought. If all adult Uvonians are expected to engage in sexual congress, then is Broek doing so, and in that case, with whom? Could it be with that female guard, Catana? That would in some way explain her hostility to my presence here. I feel a constriction somewhere in the region of my chest. The thought of Broek consorting with this Catana is not a happy one, though I am not sure why this should matter so to me. I am attracted to him, yes, but I am not so weak as to have developed feelings for the man. Perish the thought!

As soon as I am able, I change back into my gown—in the privacy of an anteroom, of course, and not within Horis’s presence—then go to find Chloe. After making enquiries, I discover her in what looks to be a play room, for it is filled with toys. Under Betsy’s supervision, she is playing happily with her two new friends.

On seeing me, she beams. “Ma, come see.” She beckons me over to a contraption in the centre of the room. It is circular in shape and sits on four sturdy wooden legs. The centre of it is covered in a thick sort of shiny fabric. All around its edges are plush cushions scattered on the floor. With surprising strength, Chloe pushes herself on her arms and climbs atop this contraption. The next instant, she is bouncing up and down like an acrobat, the strange fabric laid on it exerting some sort of propelling force, sending my daughter flying high and shrieking with joy.

“Chloe!” I rush over to her, my heart pounding wildly. She could injure herself. A hand on my arm stays me.

“It is quite safe,” says a woman whom I recognise as Udra, the mother of the twin girls. She smiles. “Truly, your daughter will come to no harm.”

I smile back uncertainly and watch Chloe. After a time, I find my worry begin to ease. I do not quite see the wisdom of creating such a contraption for children, but there can be no doubt that Chloe is enjoying herself enormously and not coming to any harm with it.

I spend some time conversing with Udra and watching over Chloe. Soon, however, a light growl in my belly reminds me that it is nearly time for luncheon. I excuse myself and head towards my bedchamber to refresh myself. There are several turns to take in the corridor, for this house is large and something of a labyrinth. I navigate a wrong turn, then correct my course. Eventually, with a little puff of victory, I manage to reach the west wing, where my bedchamber is located. I turn the knob and enter the room, needing to avail myself of the commode in the washroom. On fleet steps, I go there, pushing open the door in my haste, then come to an abrupt stop.

The washroom is hazy with steam, the source of which I quickly discover is the rain shower—another newfangled contraption located behind a door made entirely of glass. Under that shower, a person is bathing. A very tall and broad person, whose bare buttocks are clearly visible through the glass. I stare and stare some more. Broek . It is him, back from his travels. And he is bathing in my washroom. I had known that it connected to his bedchamber, but I had not gone so far as to think this meant it was his washroom too. I see now my mistake.

I ought to leave. The man will not thank me for this intrusion, and really, it is not at all seemly for me to be here. Yet I am like stone, unable to move even an inch. Presently, the water stops raining on him, and he opens the glass door, brushing wet clumps of hair from his brow as he steps out. Still, I do not move. I cannot. The sight before me is simply too arresting. I have not ever beheld such a magnificent exposition of masculine beauty—strong limbs and an exquisitely carved chest, all dusted with fine dark hair that sticks wetly to his golden skin. And at the juncture of his thighs. Oh my gracious Lord! Amid a dark nest of hair there hangs a long and thick shaft, the size of which has my eyes bulge. It swings a little from side to side with the motion of his body.

Then Broek sees me and stops. He makes no move to cover himself. Instead, he stands, hands on hips, and lets me look my fill as rivulets of water drip down his formidable body. I know I ought to make my excuses and flee, but still, I cannot. I am no stranger to the sight of an unclothed man. After all, I have been married. Yet this…. this is powerful masculinity as I have never seen before, and I cannot look away. It is only when I see his male organ thicken and strain upwards that I come to my senses. “Forgive me,” I whisper, and quickly retrace my steps out of the washroom.

On shaky feet, I stagger towards my bed and fall onto it. Burying my face in my hands, I take deep breaths to calm my excitement. I expect the door to fly open any moment with an irate Broek coming to chastise me for my wicked trespass. I hear the closing of a door beyond mine and realise he has entered his bedchamber to dress. I wait, thinking he will soon come to call. But he does not.

It is some minutes later that I hear his voice on that wretched wall contraption. “The washroom is free, Duchess, should you wish to use it. I shall see you at luncheon.” Then he is gone.