Chapter Four

"Why are you walking?" Tristan rode up beside Avery who was trailing behind the wagon. She was nearly jogging to keep up with it, and her cheeks were red and flushed looking.

"It's too crowded in the wagon," she panted without looking at him.

He glanced at the wagon. The wagon was full, although he supposed she could have squeezed in if she was determined enough. He couldn't blame her for not wanting to. Even from here he could feel the tension and distrust radiating from Mrs. Lanning.

"You cannot keep up this pace all day," he said. "It's only been an hour, and we'll be travelling until dusk."

"I have excellent stamina." She winced as she stepped on a rock and he studied her bare feet. "You'll rip your feet to shreds."

"I'm fine," she said.

He grunted irritably and then moved his horse in front of her, forcing her to stop. He reached

down, wrapped one powerful arm around her waist, and hauled her upward as she squeaked in alarm. He positioned her thin body in the saddle in front of him, grimly ignoring the feel of her ass pressing against his groin.

"I can walk, m'lord," she said through gritted teeth and tried to slide out of the saddle.

"Be still for the gods' sake," he grumbled. He put his arm around her waist and pulled her back against his chest.

She squirmed against him, and he grimaced as her soft ass rubbed against his crotch. He squeezed her waist. "I said be still." .

He pulled away from the wagon, ignoring Mrs. Lanning's look of disapproval, and dropped back until they were trailing behind the group.

"Could you loosen your grip, my lord?" she asked. "You're hurting me."

He realized he was still squeezing her waist and released her with a muttered, "Sorry." She rubbed briefly at her side before beginning to cautiously sit forward. He immediately

pulled her back against him.

"I'm not going anywhere," she protested.

"No, you're not," he agreed amicably and shifted her until she was pressed more tightly

against him.

A lovely feeling of warmth was rushing through him, and an odd sort of contentment filled

his big body. He glanced down at Avery. She was visibly trembling. The wind had picked up, bringing dark stormy clouds, and he frowned at the way the wind was rippling through her red hair. Her dress was thin, and he reached between them, unbuttoning the cloak he wore over his shirt and pants and wrapping it firmly around them both.

"You're freezing," he said gruffly, slipping his arm back around her waist and resting his large hand against her hip.

"Thank you."

She tried again to put a little space between them, and he tightened his hand on her hip. "How did you end up at the slave house? Neither you nor your sister were born into slavery, that's obvious enough."

She shrugged. "Nothing more than a bad luck story and it's a boring one at that." "I would hear it anyway," he prompted.

"I would prefer not to share it."

"I don't care what you prefer. Tell me the story, now."

She cleared her throat angrily. "Fine. My father was a very wealthy man. Many years ago, when he was a young man, he figured out how the ancients had created their electricity.

Tristan stiffened behind her. "Your father was James Hendrin?"

She nodded. "Aye."

"He's one of the most famous humans in the history of the new world." He grabbed her chin

and turned her face toward his. "Are you telling me that I purchased the children of James Hendrin to be my nanny and gardener? Your father was the wealthiest man in the country."

She wrenched her head free. "I am well aware of that, my lord." The bitterness in her voice was undeniable.

"How did he die?"

She sighed and although she began to tremble again, her voice was steady enough. "We were at our country home. My mother took Maya and me back into the city. There was a play that Maya wanted to see. My father stayed home with our two younger siblings. While we were gone, there was a fire in the house and both my father and our siblings died in the blaze."

"Was it an accident?"

"It appeared so, but my father had many enemies."

"I still do not understand how you and your sister ended up in a slave house."

"My mother is not a strong woman. After my father and siblings died, she – she became

completely unglued. My father had always encouraged a frugal lifestyle, much to my mother's dismay, and once he was gone there was no one to stop her. She threw elaborate parties, took expensive trips and bought several houses. She met the wrong people, fell in with a bad crowd, and before long they had her hooked on the cocakin."

Tristan frowned. He had tried the human's cocakin once, many years ago. The fine white powder had burned his nose and given him an instant headache, along with strange and disturbing hallucinations. He had not touched it again.

"It took my mother less than nine months to burn through my father's considerable wealth," she said. "Maya and I begged her to stop, begged her to get help, but she had gone mad with grief."

She sighed again. "When she ran out of money, she sold both Maya and me to the slave house in order to buy more drugs. She told us we were going on a holiday. Instead, she brought us to the slave house. We were taken and chained before we even really knew what was happening. We didn't even try to fight the man at the slave house... we were in too much shock."

She lapsed into silence for a moment. "She promised she would return in less than a week to buy us back and that was the last time we saw her. We have no idea where she is now or if she's even still alive."

She winced when Tristan squeezed her waist involuntarily. He was horrified by what she had just told him. Sophia's mother had been a terrible mother, but even she would not have sold her children for drugs.

"My lord," she said, pushing at his arm.

He relaxed his grip. "How long were you at the slave house?"

She mulled it over for a few minutes. "I'm not entirely sure. I would think at least ten or

eleven months. I was sold once but returned back to the slave house the next day." "Why?"

She appeared to be choosing her words carefully. "Most of the men that go there are looking for a companion or a housekeeper. The ones who are looking for a housekeeper would sooner scrub their own toilets then bring a Red into their household. Those who are looking for a – a companion, are leery of the stories of men who have tried to take Reds into their beds."

"What stories are those?"

She gave him a strange look. "Surely you know them, my lord?"

He shook his head, and she suddenly grinned ferociously. "Take a Red into your bed and you

risk having your cock turn black and rot. If you manage to fuck one without catching their whore's disease, you don't dare fall asleep while they're in your bed."

"Why not?"

She wrinkled her nose at him. "While you sleep, we wrap our long red locks around your throats, mutter the spells of the ancient ones and turn our hair into fire. Humans burn to a crisp while we remain unharmed."

"Bullshit," he said.

"You're one of the few humans I've met who doesn't believe the stories."

He rolled his eyes. "Tell me why you were returned to the slave house."

"A truly disgusting man bought me to be his companion. Apparently, he was willing to risk

losing his cock or having his bed set on fire." She paused. "The first night he took me to his bed, I broke his nose and bit off his right earlobe before muttering nonsense under my breath and threatening to set him on fire."

"Gods be damned," he grunted.

"He returned me the next day for a full refund." She smiled prettily, her even white teeth flashing at him.

He shook his head, smiling despite himself, and after a moment she sobered. "It's why I was so desperate to have Maya go with you. She is young and – and untouched, and I did not want her to be sold as a companion. I deliberately stopped her from bathing and tried to keep her as undesirable looking as possible. She's so beautiful, so pure and sweet. Your children will love her – I promise you."

"Aye," he answered.

She was silent for a few moments and then glanced up at him. "How did Sophia's mother die?"

"She, how did you put it? Fell in with the wrong crowd? Only they handed her over to the leeches as payment for their debt."

"I'm sorry," she said. "You must miss your wife."

"When Sophia was two her mother left our home and took her to the city. I did not see my child again until a week ago."

She remained silent and he found himself opening up to her. "I knew she hated the country, but I thought once Sophia was born, she would change her mind. Our – our people normally live in the country, we avoid the cities, but her family were one of the few who found comfort in the city. I lived there briefly, met Sophia's mother, and convinced her to marry me and move back to the country. She agreed but was almost instantly unhappy. A few months into the marriage she became pregnant with Sophia. She did her best to adapt to country living but it was clear she was miserable. I was away tending to matters dealing with my father's death, and she used that opportunity to take Sophia and leave."

He cleared his throat. "When I returned from my parents' home I immediately left for the city. I searched many moons for them, but she had hidden herself and Sophia well. I did not speak to them again until just over a moon ago when I received word that she had died. She had obviously spoken about me to Sophia. She knew who I was and that I was her father. But she wants little to do with me."

"So that's why she calls you Tristan," Avery said. "Aye."

"And Nicholas – he isn't yours."

"No. I do not know who his father is."

"That was kind of you to take him in."

He shrugged. "Sophia loves him very much. I did it for her. Besides, he is a thin and sickly baby. I doubt he will see his first birthday."

"You might be surprised. I have a feeling that the fresh air will suit him well." "Perhaps," he agreed.

They rode for the next half hour in silence. He was surprised when Avery, who'd been

yawning repeatedly, slumped against him, pushing her face into his neck and muttering softly in her sleep. He gritted his teeth at the feel of Avery's mouth moving against his throat. He shifted her into a more comfortable position and slid his hand upward until it rested against her ribcage. He knew she was naked under the dress, and his groin tightened uncomfortably at the memory of her body in her wet underclothes. He was aching to touch her breast, to feel the firm weight of it in his hand, and he slid his hand upward. He slipped his hand inside the loose neckline of her dress and cupped her bare breast gently. It fit perfectly in his large hand and he ran his thumb over her nipple, smiling when it hardened under his touch. He pulled lightly on her tight nipple and she arched her back a little, muttering something low in her throat. He snatched his hand away, his pulse beating thickly in his veins and shame flowing through his body. He was no better than the man who had bought her to be his companion. Despite his shame he wanted to touch her again, and he wrapped his hand around her hip to stop himself from cupping her breast. He clucked to his horse, encouraging him to move faster until they had caught up to the others.