September 2, 1695

Forest of Dean, 2:26 PM

Upon entering the library, Annabel's jaw dropped. Book lined the wall mounted shelves, more books than she'd ever seen. Her mother had taught her to read, a rare skill for a young woman outside of the nobility, but books were expensive. They were reserved for the wealthy, so they had only had a few tattered paper bound copies, all related to botany and the healing arts since her mother had been a midwife. This before her was a veritable treasure trove and she was astonished that they were still here. They could be worth more than the manor itself.

Taking tentative steps forward, Annabel's fingers reached out to graze over the thick leather bound spines that were closest. Surprisingly they were dust free although it was clear that this place had been abandoned for some time. Actually, come to think of it, despite the hints of disrepair, everything she had seen inside had been immaculate.

Of their own volition, her fingers gripped one of the volumes at the top of the spine, pulling it free from its perch. It was heavier than she expected and, facing the cover towards herself, her other hand ran over the gilded letters embossed on the hard leather spine. Milton's Paradise Lost. Opening it gently, the first page held a beautiful illustration, the ink a deep rich color on the fine paper. Numbly she walked to the nearby single-armed chaise, setting herself down on the rich red velvet material before tucking her feet beneath her and then losing herself in the pages.

The sound of a throat clearing broke her from her immersion and she looked up, startled yet again to see Sebastian standing nearby with a tea cart beside him. "Honestly Bastian, perhaps you should wear a bell," she remarked in agitation and the corner of his lips quirked again in a sinfully attractive smirk.

"Apologies again young mistress," he spoke and she hated how much she enjoyed hearing his voice although the way he addressed her was peculiar. She was in no way deserving of any titles be it lady or mistress. "However, I did knock before entering," he continued, turning to pick up the small painted teapot, pouring a measure of tea into one of the delicate cups.

He had? "Oh," was her soft reply. She hadn't heard a thing but it was quite possible since she tended to block out the world with her single minded focus at times. Annabel gently closed the book, pushing herself off of the arm of the chaise and letting her feet touch the ground as she sat up.

The cart was indeed laden with similar pastries from earlier as well as delicate finger sandwiches. A smile crossed her face at the thought of him arranging them so perfectly neat on the tray. For a demon he was rather talented. After setting down the teapot, he picked up the cup and saucer and held them out to her. As she reached for them, careful to avoid touching him, she noted how how long his fingers were beneath the white gloves. A faint citrus scent tickled her nose as she pulled the cup closer, inhaling the scent of what she knew to be earl grey.

Her eyes traveled upwards over his form as she took a sip, moving over the long arms and then to his lean chest. Faintly, she tried to recall the feel of how those arms had wrapped around her from behind when she had faced death but the memory was hazy and unfocused. "How did you find me?" she suddenly asked, lowering the teacup to its saucer with a faint clink. He was rearranging the items on the tea cart and appeared completely unphased by her question.

"Are you sure you would like to know my lady?" he asked, amusement lacing his words as his red eyes subtly shifted in her direction. It was a chilling reminder of what he was but she kept her face impassive, setting the saucer down on the end table beside the chaise before leaning back. What could possibly be so shocking about his answer? As if reading the confirmation in her eyes, he nodded, picking up a small plate of pastries.

"Everyone's soul has a distinct... scent," he finally responded, his red eyes sparking with a subtle glow that made her eyes widen in instinctive alarm. He stepped closer, bending slightly at the waist to set down the plate he held while his other hand came to rest on the arm of the chaise beside her. His face, somehow strong yet delicate, drew even nearer and she forgot how to breath, feeling much like a cornered rabbit. "Yours is an intoxicating blend of suffering, innocence and bloodlust all wrapped in one," he spoke, a predatory gleam in his glowing eyes, and she swallowed hard as he inhaled deeply. "I could smell you from miles away," he practically purred, his voice bordering on sensual.

Abruptly he righted himself, back to being the picture of perfect subservience and she drew in a ragged breath. Her face felt hot and her head light as he stepped back to the cart. "Dinner shall be ready in a few hours my lady. Please do not hesitate to call out should you need anything," he spoke and his sudden change in demeanor was like a whiplash to her emotions. She couldn't keep her eyes off of his form as he pushed the cart out before turning to pull the door closed behind him, his knowing eyes meeting hers for a brief moment before he was hidden from view.

Shakily, she brought a hand up to her chest, feeling how her heart clamored noisily in her chest. There weren't words that she knew that could adequately describe the inner turmoil that lurked beneath her skin and she pressed herself deeper into the cushions, leaving the book shut as her mind raced. All she could do to keep her grounded was focus on the motivation behind the bargain she had made. The faces of the villagers and then that of the priest who had whispered into her ear flashed in her mind. But it went further than that. The Catholic church was the one who sent out its minions, murderers hiding behind the robes of their faith. They all deserved to burn.

She finally went back to the book, now looking through the illustrations scattered throughout. The reading of it was interesting, but there were many words that she didn't know. As her eyes soaked in the images of angels and demons she couldn't help but wonder on their accuracy. Was this what Sebastian's true form looked like?

The hours passed by rather quickly and this time when he knocked her head lifted and she cleared her throat, "Enter," she called. The doors opened and she stood, placing the book where she had sat.

"Dinner is served my lady," he spoke and she walked out, following him down the hallway that opened up to a large dining room dominated by a massive table. Along the side wall there was a hearth that held a crackling fire, warming the room. At the nearest head of the table there was a place set and her mouth watered at the scent that filled her nose.

Sebastian pulled out her chair and then slid it beneath her as she sat, pressing her near to the table's edge before laying a napkin across her lap. A metal cloche covered her plate and he lifted it, revealing thick cuts of meat resting in a bed of sauce as well as fresh green beans and roasted fingerling potatoes. "Roasted duck in a red wine sauce my lady," he spoke, setting the metal dome to the side before picking up an open bottle of wine and pouring it into a beautiful clear wine glass.

There were more utensils around the plate than seemed necessary and her hand reached forward hesitantly for a fork, unsure which of the four forks in front of her she was supposed to use. As her hand hovered uncertainly she could feel Sebastian's presence step closer. "If I may, my lady?" he questioned, bowing slightly and gesturing to the utensils in front of her. Pulling her hand back into her lap she nodded, feeling embarrassment tighten her jaw at her obvious lack of culture.

Unexpectedly, he stepped behind the chair she sat in, gloved hands reaching forward on either side of her body and she stiffened. He gave no acknowledgment to her discomfort, instead pulling a particular fork from the left and a knife from the right closer. "These are what are used for main courses," he spoke, his words warm against the side of her neck making her stomach clench. Picking up first her left hand, he pressed the fork into her fingers, showing her the proper way to grip and then followed suit with the knife in her right hand. Then, covering both her hands with his own, he demonstrated how to elegantly slice through the meat. All she could think of was how near he was, the warmth of his hands through the gloves, and how he smelled like bergamot and something she couldn't quite put her finger on.

When he released her to step back to the side, Annabel felt like a child again beneath his watchful gaze and she had to concentrate to keep her fingers from trembling as she repeated the move, albeit the move was jerkier than his had been. Still, he nodded and she stabbed her fork through the meat to bring it to her lips. Flavor exploded on her tongue and she couldn't help but close her eyes at the taste, the meat practically melting as she chewed. "This is..." she drawled out opening her eyes, "Excellent." He bowed his head subtly in thanks.

It took every ounce of willpower for her not to lose composure and eat in a hurried manner as she once might have. If he hadn't watched her she undoubtedly would have. However, from their discussion from this morning, he had made it clear that part of her training would be to mold her into a refined woman. Apparently, there may be times in their pursuit of her revenge where the skills would come into play. She didn't see how at the moment but she wouldn't question it for now. And so she slowly continued the meal. When she set down the utensils and reached for her wine glass he cleared his throat and she rolled her eyes. There was a right and wrong way to hold a glass?

He stepped forward and moved her hand from clutching the well of the glass to having her fingers delicately holding the stem of the glass. In her opinion this only made the risk of spilling more prominent but she didn't argue. He suddenly spoke, breaking the gentle silence between them as he released her hand, "Tomorrow other servants will arrive to clean up the estate and handle some of the menial tasks." Other servants?

"Human servants?" she asked, taking a tentative sip of her wine. The answering smile that tugged at his lips made her feel foolish for asking but he merely answered, "Yes, they shall be human. And unaware of your true origins." Her brow arched at that and she took a second, larger sip of her wine, waiting for him to elaborate.

"Officially, this land was recently purchased by a french Vicomte by the name of Jacques Vanguard," he began, and she wondered how he could have managed to create fictional nobility. Undoubtedly, the wealth he had somehow procured to purchase this land had quieted any questioning mouths. "As his only child, you have traveled with him to England to experience the high society as he travels around the country to manage various business dealings and affairs. We shall have to integrate you into societal events, perhaps as seeking a suitable husband," Annabel nearly choked at the last part, swallowing down her mouthful of wine and quickly placing the glass back upon the table.

Cutting him a scathing look, she turned back to her food, picking back up her utensils and picking at her sides. She wanted to eat more but her eyes were larger than her shrunken stomach. With a sigh she placed the knife and fork back on the plate and sat back in the seat, processing his words. So she would have to play a character. The thought alone was exhausting. Lifting the napkin from her lap she set it beside her plate before shifting to rise. In an instant he was there, pulling her chair back.

"I've had enough of this day," she spoke plainly, the weariness evident in her tone.

"Shall I draw you a bath?" he asked and the idea was certainly tempting although she felt she had never been cleaner than she was now. In her prior life, she had always washed herself in the stream near her home, never had she had a proper bath. Allowing herself to nod reluctantly, she followed him as he led her out, back to the bedroom she had awoken in. As if he had guessed her answer, there was an empty wooden tub sitting in front of the hearth which also had a fire blazing. How did he accomplish so much without her noticing?

Stepping into the room she turned only to find he had gone. The room was pleasantly warm and she walked to the foot of her bed, unsure of herself. Before she could question her next move further, Sebastian returned, carrying a massive handled basin filled with water. He held it with unparalleled strength, the steaming water hardly rippling as he walked in towards the hearth, pouring it gently to fill the tub in front of the fire. There was no way a human man could have even lifted that, much less carried it with such unbothered ease. "I shall gather the soaps and oils, my lady," he spoke as he walked back to the open doorway, "Feel free to prepare yourself for the bath."

Shock at his words colored her cheeks but he was already gone. Surely he didn't mean for her to strip. Crossing her arms, she sat herself on the bed's edge allowing her unease to morph into pouting defiance. He returned, barely glancing at her as he carried a tray with jars and a square bar of soap. A cloth was draped over his arm and he set both the tray and cloth on a wooden stool that he then placed by the basin before turning in her direction.

"Shall I unlace your dress, my lady?" he questioned, his face and voice annoyingly impassive. Was this normal behavior for male servants? The thought made her uneasy and her crossed arms loosened but then she caught sight of the mirthful gleam in his eye and cursed herself inwardly. He was trying to get a rise out of her, to throw her off balance. Damnable demon. Swallowing, she tried to suppress the flush in her cheeks.

"I am perfectly capable of undressing myself Sebastian, you may leave," she spoke, grateful for how even her voice sounded. He gave a nod and then turned, walking out and shutting her door behind him. Releasing a heavy sigh she glanced at the door before rising from the bed and loosening the laces of her dress. It slid free of her body easily and she ignored the sight of herself in the vanity mirror. The sheer shift she wore went next and then she slid her fingers into her hair to pull out the pins she had placed this morning.

Cautiously approaching the tub's edge she dipped her fingers into the warm water, eyeing the oil bottles with uncertainty. Raising her leg she placed her foot in the water, hissing at how hot it was but not giving herself a chance to back out. She could practically feel her skin turning red but she lifted in her other foot, bracing her hands on either side of the tub's edge. Lowering herself into the heat she groaned as the water completely covered her small frame until she was sitting on the bottom. She'd never felt anything like it. It was phenomenal. Resting her head back, she took a moment to soak in the heat of the water, closing her eyes.

Every stress and anxiety seemed to seep from her pores and into the water around her. Her mother would have loved this. The thought tore at her heart for the barest of moments before she pushed it back. She had cried herself hoarse countless times until there was nothing left in the past six months and the time for crying was done. She couldn't right the wrong but she would avenge it and perhaps save others from the same fate.

Turning her gaze she lifted an arm from the water and reached for the soaps and oils, taking the time to clean herself and fragrance her hair with the scent of honeysuckle. The water was turning cold when she finally rose to step free of the basin, using the cloth he had left to dry her skin even as the fire helped to dry her as well. Wringing out what she could of her hair she moved to the armoire and pulled out a similar nightgown she'd worn the previous night. It was no sooner over her neck and buttoned when a knock sounded at the door.

Not even bothering to question how he knew, Annabel called out to him, "Enter Sebastian." His gaze took her in before walking to the basin, picking it back up to take who knows where. When he returned, she had dried her hair as best as she could with the towel and set it back on the tray of soaps and oils. It was easy to forget sometimes what he was when he appeared so domestic, quickly wiping up the remnants of water from the floor before gathering the tray and exiting again.

Annabel lowered herself in the chair that sat in front of the small vanity, suddenly realizing that the front of her nightgown had turned sheer as it soaked up water from her wet hair. She saw him enter the room again, his gaze meeting hers in the mirror and she jerked her hands up to cover her chest. His gaze flickered down slightly causing her cheeks heated. She hated first, how she had reacted, and second, how easily her emotions were manipulated. He had been walking towards the bed to gather her discarded dress but she watched as he shifted direction and walked to stand behind her.

His crimson eyes held hers as he leaned over her and she clutched her chest tighter. However, he merely picked up the brush that lay on the vanity and began to gently run it through her hair. "What are you doing?" she asked incredulously and his head tilted, his eyed amused.

"I'm brushing your hair, my lady," he answered simply, breaking from her gaze as he pulled the long wet strands back over her shoulders, causing her to bite back on whatever scathing reply had been dancing on her tongue. It actually felt rather pleasant and it gave her an opportunity to study his features while his gaze was fixed on her hair. He had shown a bit of himself to her earlier in the library and she couldn't help but wonder about him. Did he have emotions like a human man or was it all just for show?

"Seems like quite alot of work for a soul," she began, seeing the slight crinkle around his eyes, hinting at his amusement.

"You sell yourself short young mistress," he began, setting her brush down before weaving his fingers into her hair. He began to braid, looping her hair around in intricate patterns before he spoke again, "Besides, the anticipation of it is half the prize my lady. All good things come to those who wait after all." Annabel gave a slight hmm in reply as if pondering his words. She knew they would be kept from being quite as frank with each other when the servants arrived tomorrow so this was her chance to ask what she liked. As if he too recognized that fact, Sebastian took his time weaving her hair.

A part of her wanted to know what would happen to her when he finally took his prize but another part of her decided it would be best not to think of it. She wanted to block out that undoubtedly horrific future. So instead she asked the other question that had been nagging at her, "When will we begin?"

Sebastian twirled his hand and suddenly the braids wound over her head like a crown and he picked up her discarded pins, securing it in place before meeting her gaze, "As I said my lady, all good things come to those who wait." There was a semblance of that hunger there and his lips twisted into a subtle smile, "We shall begin your lessons tomorrow, expect a full day." His answer was aggravatingly obtuse but she was curious to see what sort of lessons he had in mind.

He moved to close all her curtains, the only light in the room from the warm glow of the fireplace. Then he picked up her dress and turned down her sheets. "Sleep well," he imparted, walking for the door. He closed it without a second glance back and she stayed seated eyeing her hair as she thought about what was to come. Perhaps it would be better to draw it out. She did after all, want the ends of those responsible to be memorable ones.

Rising, Annabel crossed to the bed, slipping beneath the warm feather down covers. Not to mention, she could take the time to enjoy these extravagant luxuries that she'd never before known. Yes, drawing it out would be better she resolved to herself, pressing deeper into the soft pillows.