Chapter 8 (In Progress and Re-writing)

Chapter 8: Untitled (Catch me if you can? A small taste of freedom?)

She dashes back into the room and grabs the book from the chair, where it still lay discarded.  “Finally it is going to provide some real entertainment,” she thinks.  Ayden goes to the door and tries the knob.  It opens easily.  She pulls the door carefully open and pokes her head into the hall.  The hall is deserted.  She looks to the staircase Master Hunter used when they came in last night.  It is halfway down the passage.  She chews on her lip trying to decide if she can make it.  She makes one more quick check of the hall and pulls the door closed on the book, wedging it in so the door will appear closed but will not lock her out.  She dashes for the stairs.  They are empty.  Ayden carefully creeps down step by step to the ground level.  When she reaches the first floor she remembers the commotion outside with the grape vats and almost turns back to her room, but she hears voices behind her and knows there is no turning back.

She takes a deep breath and whispers, “Ayden what is wrong with you?  You can do this.  It is just a fruit tree in a garden and you are going straight back to the room.”

She opens the back door of the Inn slowly and looks around.  The vats are empty and there is no sign of any workers in the fields.  She can hear loud voices and laughter coming from within the inn.  Somewhere inside it sounds like a large crowd is having a party.

She ventures out into the sunshine, a small taste of freedom.  She tugs at the bottom of her shirt feeling self-conscious about it now that they are off the beach.  Timidly she moves to the end of the building.  As she rounds the corner the tree comes into sight.  “Almost there, Ayden,” she tells herself.  Reaching the front of the inn is easy and she peers up and down the drive to be sure no one is around.  Ayden is surprised how uneasy she feels just walking around outside alone.  It makes her feel a little silly to be so insecure.

She darts across the drive and finally reaches the shade of the tree.  Ayden looks around and the quiet is eerie.  A chill runs down her spine.  What had seemed like a grand adventure in the comfort and safety of her room suddenly feels ominously reckless.  Ayden looks up in the tree and realizes she did not think her plan through completely.  She wonders how she will reach the fruit that draws her in, tempting her with its sumptuous juices.  The water flowing down from the fountain seems to be mocking her, laughing at her impudence.  It is as if the fountain and the tree are in a game of keep-away with her and she is the monkey in the middle of their childish game.

It has been a few years, but she climbed the occasional tree when she was a young girl playing with Meg in the grove near her home.  The branches look sturdy enough to hold her weight.  She circles around the trunk looking for the best approach.  On the far side, away from the inn, she finds the weakness her opponent has been concealing from her.  There behind the trunk is a low hanging branch full of sweet ripe fruit just waiting for her to pluck it.  She manages to pick three big pieces before her arms are bursting.  Ayden pulls up the hem of her shirt and uses it to make a pocket to safely hold the hefty fruit.  She releases the small harvest from her arms into the protective compartment and reaches up into the tree claiming one more that is hanging just over her head.

She thinks how silly she was to be afraid to walk down to the garden alone.  Ayden smiles smugly at herself and her new found independence when she hears muffled voices coming towards her.  She holds her breath and presses her back against the tree trunk.  Frantically see looks around for a place to hide.  She is sure it must just be a family that has come down to enjoy the flowers and the quiet.  She listens carefully trying to hear what is being said. 

She cannot believe when she hears a gruff voice say, “Are you sure she went into the garden?”

Her heart is beating so loud she is sure they can hear her.  She looks to the nearby hedge and wonders if she can duck under it without being seen.  It is impossible to breathe with her heart climbing her throat, threatening to beat its way free of her. She tries to tell herself there is nothing to worry about but it only makes her heart pound stronger.  She clutches to the fruit wishing it had the power to save her.

She knows they are right behind her.  Just on the other side of the tree.  She can smell their cologne.  It is had a deep spicy scent. 

“Come on.  She’s not here.  Quit wasting time.  Let’s go back inside,” comes to her ears like a symphony to her rescue.  She smiles to herself, in relief, while chiding her arrogance.  She watches as two butterflies chase each other across the roses, and marvels at the merry way they live their lives.  She knows she should have stayed comfortable and happy looking down on the garden from the safety of her balcony.  She pledges to take her bundle up to the room and read that foolish book until Master Hunter returns.  She will tell him what see did and beg for his mercy.

Just steps away from her the butterflies have landed on a beautiful rose.  The inside of the petals are the deepest crimson she has seen and the outside is contrasted by the purest perfect shade of white.  It would look beautiful in a vase on the table.  Ayden decides it could be a symbol of her gratitude to Master Hunter for all he has taught her these past few days. 

She holds her breath listening, but all she hears are the birds singing over-head.  The voices have quieted and the drums in her chest have settled into an even cadence.  Ayden takes a deep breath and releases her bond with the trunk of the tree and finally pushes herself free.  She peeks around to be sure that she is finally alone. 

Ayden wonders if it is just her nerves or were those men really looking for her.  Watching the entrance of the garden she moves to the rose bush fumbling with the heavy fruit.  She leans in to smell the sweet nectar of the rose when she hears a voice behind her.  He is leaning against the far side of the trunk, hidden behind its massive twisted trunk.  He has one foot propped up behind him supporting his weight.  He smiles at her and says, “There you are.  We had wondered where you had gone.  We saw you sneak out of the Inn and have been looking for you.”

Ayden hears herself scream before she knows she has opened her mouth.  The fruit from her shirt lands with a thud on the ground at her feet.  She backs away from the man.  He is young, fit, and his features are neither striking nor unpleasant.  He has dark hair and deep set eyes.  He is wearing a blue plaid shirt and simple denim pants.

Ayden watches him warily but he has not moved.  He is still leaning tranquilly with his back against the trunk.  He smiles at her and puts two fingers into his mouth letting out a shrill whistle that cuts through the still morning air.  Everything around Ayden goes quiet.  The birds stop their singing and the butterflies have disappeared.  Even the water from the brook that flows from the fountain is silent.  There is only his eyes meeting hers.

Ayden’s feet are glued to the ground.  She watches him.  Her breath feels choked, coming out in short quick pants.  Voices are coming towards her down the slope from the drive.  Their steps sound like the thunder of a hundred horses to her ears.

In a fleeting moment it does not feel real. He moves.  His body comes forward pushing away from the tree with his foot until he is standing, facing her.  He takes a small step forward over a root at the base of the tree.

He is leering down at her and moving in her direction.  She takes a step back.  He takes another step forward.  She moves back one step further.  Ayden feels the rose bush pressing through the thin material of her shirt.  His smile widens and he looks to his friends that are swiftly returning.

“Down here,” he calls up to them.  Ayden looks down and she is still holding the last of the illicit fruit.  His eyes return to her and with the instincts of a ninja mouse being chased by an alley cat Ayden hurdles the fruit at his head, turns away from the tree, the fountain, and the voices heading in her direction, and she runs.

Ayden darts down the slope running as fast as she can.  Her bare feet pound over the stone path.  She looks back over her shoulder and the friends have reached the tree.  The first man is wiping fruit juice off his face.  Ayden hit her mark and takes some satisfaction in it, but that has not slowed his friends’ pursuit.  They are closing in on her fast. 

Ayden is suddenly faced with the impossible maze.  She changes paths and turns down a row of tall hedges.  She hopes that she can lose them when she is out of sight, but they are too close now.  One of the men is very tall and he has nearly reached her.  Ayden can feel his fingers sweep through the end of her ponytail, but he misses and ends up with a fist full of air.

Ayden veers to the side and finds another route.  This one leads up to the exit.  If she can only reach the safety of the Inn and get back to her room she will be free of her pursuers. She is nearly out of breath.  Ayden scurries up the hill as fast as she can.  She catches her toe on the edge of a stone but it does not slow her sprint.

She is almost back to the tree.  She can see the limbs stretching over the top of the tall hedges.  She nears the top of the row and can the pounding footfalls fading away behind her.  She can hear their labored breathing.  She finally dares to take a peek over her shoulder to calculate her lead, but when she does she hurtles right into the waiting arms of the man who is now covered in juice.

“I knew you would not stay away for long,” he sneers as Ayden struggles in his arms.  Ayden screams but the only answer is the laughter of his friends that have now caught up and are doubled over panting for air.  “Did you miss me, Pretty-little-thing?” he says laying a kiss on her jawline while holding her around the waist, pinning her arms to her sides.

“Good job guys.  This is a feisty one.  Let’s get her back inside,” he tells his friends.  He half picks Ayden off the ground so that her feet barely drag across the tufts of grass and half walks her haltingly past the fountain with his legs moving hers forward as if she were dancing on his feet.

Ayden’s little parade of kidnappers marches her right up to the main entrance of the Squeeze Inn, with its grand carriages pulled by pretty girls and its regal balconies that later in the day will be filled with on lookers.  They march her right through the doors and into the lobby.  It is a typical lobby.  To her left is a dark polished wood reception desk. Near the desk is a staircase that hugs the back corner.  It leads up to a balcony that runs the length of the lobby.  On the other end of the lobby, to her right, is a river stone fireplace that takes up most of the far wall.  The ceiling is open to the windmill like dome which sits on top of the Inn.  The glass allows light to filter in and gives the room a mystical glow.  The chimney of the fireplace travels up passed the second floor and disappears into the ceiling.  It is not crowded but there are people visiting on the couches in front of the roaring fire.  There are pretty girls in lacy pink tunics kneeling around the room and others that are busy with simple tasks.  An older couple is occupied with a game of cards at one of the two large tables in the center of the room.

Ayden cries out for help.  Every head in the room turns in her direction but no one moves.  The man who is marching her into the lobby abruptly clamps his large hand over Ayden’s mouth and hisses a hasty warning into her ear, “Do you want to find yourself on a post come the next Reclaiming Day?”  It is enough to stop her pleas instantly as Ayden remembers the girl that was carried through the crowd yesterday morning.  The older gentleman stands to face them and using only her eyes she begs him for help.  Her kidnapper holds up his hand telling the old man to keep his distances and with his other hand he spins Ayden around to face him before she has a chance to try and escape.  He shakes his finger at her, nearly tapping her nose and then he nimbly bends, grabs her around the thighs, and suddenly Ayden is flying into the air as she is tossed over his shoulder.

Upside down she watches the old man smile at his wife and nod to her abductor before sitting back down to his game.  Ayden balls up her fists and pounds on the young man’s back but he simply slaps her on the bum.  In the quiet of the lobby the spank makes a pop that echoes off her bare thighs up to the glass in the dome above their heads.  The young man, in the simple blue plaid shirt, just chuckles at her and loudly jokes, “Patience, Pretty-little-thing.”

Their parade route follows the carpet runner that travels from the front door, right past the grand reception desk, and under where the stairs meet the balcony.  The doorway, under the balcony leads out of the lobby and into a short hallway.  The door to the hall is a wide open carved wooden arch with thick pillars on either side.  Ayden stretches out for the nearest column but her arms fly free as the pillars cruise past beyond her reach.  He carries her into a dimly light room filled with loud laughing voices.  They sound like the voices Ayden heard from the stairs.  She imagines that is how the men saw her sneaking out the back door.  Ayden realizes she should have been more obedient to Master Hunter and wonders what he will say if she sees him again.

The young man carries her past several men that are drinking at tables in the center of the room.  He swaggers up to the bar and pulling a deflated Ayden from his shoulder he plops her down on the slab of wood facing him.  “There we go you, Lassie,” he says to Ayden with a huff.  The bar top is still damp and her legs stick to the film created by years of spilled drinks.

Ayden looks around the room for any sign of help or route to escape.  His friends have all followed them into the room.  The tall one takes a seat at a nearby table and is pointing to her and laughing with the men sitting there.  She is quickly drawing their attention.  She searches the faces of the men seated at the tables hoping that Master Hunter will be there.  Ayden dismayed that her hopes for rescue have been dashed when she does not find him among the men.  To her left is a curved staircase that leads to a gallery above.  The back wall of the gallery has three arched openings that each lead to a dark wood door.  There is a small table for two in front of each archway.  A metal railing runs along the front of the gallery and hanging in front of each of the tables is what looks like a decorative cricket bat.  Two of them read “Vacant” and the one on the end in red scrolled letters says, “Occupied”.  Below the gallery is a small dark alcove with cafe tables that are nearly deserted with the exception of a few dark shadows lurking near the back.

Her captor runs his hands down her thighs.  When he reaches her knees he squeezes them making Ayden flinch.  He spreads her legs and pulls Ayden forward so that she encircles his ribs. “That was quite a chase you gave us,” he says with a chuckle.  “No harm done, huh?  I bet you’re thirsty now aren’t you?” he asks but Ayden does not answer him.

His hand comes down like a clap of thunder on the bar and Ayden jumps.  “Tony, bring me a pitcher of the house ale and an extra glass for this pretty young thing,” he calls to the man behind the bar who is busy wiping up.

Turning to Ayden he smiles and jutting his chin in her direction asks, “You like that vigor fruit don’t you, Pretty-young-thing?”  Looking down at his damp shirt, “She even shared some of hers with me,” he adds while he brushes at the now drying juice that dripped from his face to the collar of his shirt.

“Hey, Ethan you know the house ale ain’t for girls.  Miss Avishag don’t allow it.  She makes it too strong for the likes of them,” the barkeeper replies.

“Ahh,” Ethan scoffs, “Tony, you have not seen the fire in this one.  We found her wandering around outside, alone in the garden, on Reclaiming Day,” he says with a hint of awe in his voice.

“What were you doing in the garden?  You know it really is not safe to be out there alone today,” he whispers to her privately in a conspiratorial voice while Tony pulls on the handle filling a large pitcher.  Ayden studies, Ethan, her captor’s face but does not reply.  She wonders if she might have misunderstood him.  He has not hurt her and seems friendly with the men in the room, but he has dragged her in here against her will and she does not want to trust him.

When the pitcher is full Tony, the barkeeper picks it up in one hand and fingers four glasses in his other.  He brings them down the end of the bar and places them on the counter beside Ayden.  “One more glass coming up, but this is on your head.  I want nothing to do with it.  You hear me?” he warns Ethan.

Ethan laughs off Tony’s warning and begins to pour two tall glasses of the dark ale.  The bubbles tumble and turn creating a tall froth at the top of each glass.  Ethan slides the first one close to Ayden’s thigh and begins to pour the second glass when he orders her with one word, “Drink.”  Ayden’s only response is to fold her arms defiantly across her chest.

He finishes filling his glass and in extremely mocking astonishment he eyes her with a smile.  He watches Ayden for any sign of softening, but he does not receive his reward.  He lowers the glass that was posed on his lip back to the bar.  “Are you serious?  Are you going to fight me at every turn?” he asks incredulously.

He leans in and whispers conspiratorially to only her, “Look, we did not mean to really scare you, but you should have seen the look on your face coming out from behind that tree thinking you had outsmarted us.  You can’t blame a guy for having a little fun can you?”  He laughs and takes a glup of his ale and rolls it around his mouth eyeing her closely.  Ayden simply glares at him in response.

He sighs and sets down his drink again.  “We were coming in and saw you sneaking around outside.  You are not supposed to be outside the day after Reclaiming Day.  The beaches are still being cleaned,” he explains.  “Besides, there are a lot of guys in from out of town that are looking for trouble.”  Just drink the ale and have a good time,” he fairly pleads.

Ayden is not sure what to think of this young man, Ethan, but she knows she does not want to give him the satisfaction of giving in to his demands.  She is ignoring him and surveying the room.  She knows Ethan is watching her and she takes some gratification in his displeasure.

“Oh, quit behaving like a spoiled nanny sub and start acting like a proper vessel already,” he says with disgust finishing off the last of his glass.  “If you can’t I might just have to teach you how,” he threatens but Ayden can see the smile on his face and fights back her own, not letting it show.

“You would not dare,” she finally challenges him openly.

“I would and I will,” he promises.  “Your feistiness was cute at first but it is bordering on insolence now,” he says his tone changing slightly.

Ayden looks down at him and is about to challenge him further but she sees the recognition in his eyes and he reacts with cat-like grace before she can open her mouth.  He scoops her off the bar and calls out, “Hey, Joey come over here.  We need to teach this Pretty-Young-Thing some manners.”

Suddenly her feet are on the floor and Ethan has spun a chair around.  She prepares to fight him.  Ayden is not about to give him the satisfaction of surrendering so easily or taking a seat like a scolded child.  Not after he frightened her so terribly in the garden and for nothing more than his own amusement.  But when his friend Joey arrives, much to her surprise, Ayden is not offered the seat.  Joey grasps both of her hands, pulling them forward, he settles them near the corners at the top of the back rest, and holds them there.  Ethan is behind her and pushes her feet apart so that they held in place, by straddling the front legs.  She opens her mouth to protest but Ethan’s hand lands firmly on her backside.  She cries out in indignation.  She almost laughs at the nerve of Ethan thinking he can just take these liberties with her when he does not even know her.  She looks around the room, but the men are cheering Ethan on.  From behind her she hears him ask, “What do you say?  Does she need another?”

Ayden yells, “What?” defiantly but she is drowned out by the cheers and raised glasses.

Ethan places his palm on the curve of her back and lands two hard smacks that send shivers up her spine.  Ayden twists around squirming to see what Ethan is doing, but the tall friend has her, bent at the hips and her hands firmly locked in place on the back of the chair.  Ayden sputters helpless to the hands that hold her in place and the growing realization inside of her that she is enjoying this more than she should.

Ethan slowly rubs the tender area of warmed flesh in relaxing circles.  Ayden fights the appeal to enjoy his touch.  Ethan asks the gathered crowd if she appears ready to comply with his wishes or if she should receive a few more lessons in manners.  Instantly glasses of ale are hoisted into the air and a loud cheer goes out for more etiquette lessons.  His hand lands repeatedly on his increasingly willing hostage until Ayden is no longer chuckling at the absurdity of the idea that he would spank her here in the bar.  He continues to land hard snapping strikes until Ayden is breathless and a tear finally appears in the corner of her eye.  Suddenly as quickly as it begun the spankings cease.

Ayden is gasping to catch her breath when she hears Ethan announce, “Who will be next to teach this Pretty-Young-Thing some manners?”  Ayden nearly chokes.  Her head immediately comes up in a sudden panic, looking to the tall boy holding her, anxiously wishing he would release her, but he just smiles and give her a conspiratorial wink.  One of the figures in the shadows below the gallery moves forward.  She tries to blink away her tears to see who her next tormentor will be.  “Ronely?” Ethan asks, directed to the man.  Her heart catches in her throat when she looks and sees her beautiful blue-eyed rescuer.  He has been watching the spectacle tucked away in the shelter of the gallery.  He waves Ethan off and swallows the last of his ale, hands his glass to a girl in a frilly pink tunic, and leans against one of the gallery support posts. 

Ethan leans forward, his hand resting on the tender flesh of her freshly spanked behind and asks, “Did you enjoy that?”

Ayden blushes and drops her head.

Ethan throws back his head in laughter, Aww, I have finally quieted that tongue of yours,” he declares.  “Now will you take what I over you