Page 11 of Beholden
“You know I cannot.”
“I’ll not be giving ye a choice this time.” Curly jutted his chin, the torchlight highlighting the jagged scars along his jaw, his cheeks, and even on his forehead.
I set my shoulders and would have pulled myself up to my full height of five feet, four inches, but I’d learned during the early days of slavery not to bump the sharp rocks that formed the ceiling. “I refuse to leave Alice and Benedict to fend for themselves.”
“You must go.” Benedict spoke forcefully, as he always did whenever I got into this argument with Curly. “All we want is for you to be safe.”
“And all I want is foryouto be safe.”
“Your two servants can come with,” Vilmar cut in.
“’Tis not possible.” I attempted to keep the exasperation from my tone. After all, Vilmar wouldn’t know the details of the situation, how Alice had nearly slipped and fallen to her death the last time we’d gone with the others. “The climb up and down the shaft is too treacherous.”
“If we combine our rope belts, we can fashion a sling to lower and raise them through the shaft.”
A sling? Why hadn’t we considered that before?
“We could also use such a lift to hoist the full buckets at the end of the workday.” Vilmar watched Curly expectantly. “That is, if Curly is agreeable.”
Curly was silent, his expression guarded. “It might work.”
“We can try, can we not?” This time Vilmar looked directly at me. His eyes were a light crystal-blue that seemed to see right through me to the deepest secrets of my heart. I realized in that moment the rumors regarding his good looks were entirely true. Not only were his eyes a beautiful color, but everything about him was beautiful—his chiseled face, muscular frame, and even his broad hands. His jaw and chin had a layer of scruff, and his brown hair was overlong and pulled back into a leather strip. Nevertheless, he held himself with the bearing of nobility and not a common man.
Who was he? And how had he ended up as a slave in the mine pits? Of course rumors were already circulating that he’d displeased his father and, as punishment, was sent here. But I sensed this man’s story ran deeper than he’d revealed.
We retrieved our buckets and made our way to the shaft that led to the newest drift. Curly made quick work of descending and gathering up as many ropes as we needed to assemble the sling. Vilmar tied the knots and then lowered Alice down without so much as a scratch. By the time we were all back at work, I doubled my efforts at chipping away the rock. Because of the lost time, we would be hard-pressed to meet our daily quota. Thus, I was surprised when I dumped a handful of crumbling stone into Alice’s bucket, that it was nearly full.
“Vilmar insisted I take his.” Alice darted a look at the handsome slave pounding his chisel into stone. He’d rolled up his sleeves, revealing muscles bulging with each forceful blow.
I couldn’t tear my sights away from his rippling arms. “That was generous of him.”
“He gave some of his rocks to Benedict too.”
“When?”
“When you were distracted in talking with Farthing.”
As though sensing my attention, Vilmar looked up and caught my gaze. In that instant, as earlier, I could feel his keen assessment, that he was trying to analyze me every bit as much as I was him.
He slid a glance in Curly’s direction at the forefront of the drift before focusing once again on his chisel. Curly had obviously warned Vilmar against interacting with me, which explained the rebuff earlier in the week when I’d attempted to thank him.
At times Curly’s concern was overbearing. However, I couldn’t complain, not when my friend had made sure I was safe from the wiles of any men who might find me attractive.
While I didn’t want to put Vilmar into danger from Curly, I needed to speak with him privately. Soon.
Even in late spring, the predawn air on the top of Ruby Mountain always dipped below freezing. As I waited in the shadows of the infirmary, I tried to quell my shivering, clutching my threadbare cloak around me tighter and forcing away thoughts of the thick white coat trimmed in rabbit fur I’d worn in winters past along with the leather boots lined with warm flannel. I’d had more muffs and hats than I’d known what to do with.
What I wouldn’t give to have just one of each now.
I released a soft sigh that puffed out as a frozen white cloud in the frigid air. As the daughter of the richest nobleman in Warwick, I’d taken so much of my privileged life for granted, and I regretted now that I hadn’t been more appreciative of all I once owned. It wasn’t that I’d been ungrateful. I’d simply been oblivious to how comfortable and easy my life was... until it had been ripped away from me.
At a slight movement near one of the men’s huts, I held myself motionless, forcing my shivering to abate. Was it Vilmar? Would he meet with me as I’d requested?
Through the sliver of moonlight, I strained to see whether anyone was coming my way. But the town was eerily still, the overseers slumbering and the night guards finishing their watch.
At the crunch of gravel behind me, I spun. A cloaked man stood close enough that he could have grabbed and muffled me if he’d been so inclined. But from the way he held himself slightly aloof, I guessed this was Vilmar even before he lowered his hood.
“My lady,” he whispered, leaving me no doubt he’d guessed my nobility. ’Twas no secret anyway. Soon after I’d arrived at the mine pits, everyone had learned the story about my fall from the duchess’s favor.
