CHAINS TO FREEDOM.✔

Chapter Twenty-Nine

A vision of Alice filled her mind and as if an alarm had gone off in her head Jessica's eyes flicked opened. She was breathing hard, her skin wet with perspiration. Jessica trembled and began to cry. It was a dream, all a dream. She wiped the tears from her eyes and breathed deeply to gather her senses.

Jessica tried to sit. A sharp pain caused her to fall back to lying position. Once in control she lifted her head and touched her arm, where the pain more radiated from. Her shirt was ripped. Blood stained the material that was hanging loosely from her shoulder. Jessica's hand was smeared with blood. She wiped it across the front of her shirt, but couldn't remove it all. The memory of being knocked from the horse came back to her. She must have hit a tree or low-lying branch, the force of it cutting her shoulder and throwing her to the ground. Jessica moved the fingers and bent her elbow, sure she hadn't broken it. Again she started to stand, slowly this time, so as not to aggravate her injury.

Once on her feet she scanned the area with her eyes looking for the horse. It was nowhere to be seen. The White had obviously traveled deep into the scrub. She could no longer see the creek bed. Everything looked the same in every direction. Not knowing which way to go, Jessica decided to look for signs of where the horse had gone. She discovered some broken branches, but was unsure if the horse had come from or had left that way. The blood from the gash trickled down her skin and off the tips of her fingers, onto the dry scattered leaves. Jessica noticed the ground was sloped and decided she would head up hill. She remembered the horse seeming to struggle in its gait as it had cantered onward through the trees so assumed it must have been travelling uphill.

It seemed to take her forever to reach the rise. The trees suddenly thinned exposing open pasture. Not five hundred yards away she could see the men. Jessica wanted to call to them but her throat was parched and no sound came.

They had their backs to her, busy working on the fence. She was probably fifty feet away when Aiden noticed her. He dropped his shovel, exclaiming, "Master!"

Startled both Louis and George turned toward Aiden, shocked at the sight of Jessica. Blood was splattered over her skirt and across the front of her ripped shirt. It was smeared across her face where she had wiped off perspiration with her hand.

Jessica's voice was a whisper when she spoke, "Aiden, it's Alice, she's having the baby. She wants you." Jessica swallowed dryly.

Aiden stared at her then looked at Louis.

"Go, Aiden." Louis jerked his head. "We'll finish here." Louis took hold of Jessica's face looking for cuts then stared into her eyes.

Jessica watched his pupils dilate. Her stomach lurched. She felt as though something had just transpired, but wasn't sure what. He turned his attention to her injury causing her to grimace when he touched it.

"George! Bring me the water," he growled and stared angrily at her.

Jessica studied his face, wanting to know why. Surely she had done the right thing.

"How did you do this?" he said looking into her eyes as he handed her the water.

Jessica drank greedily, water running down the sides of her mouth wetting her shirt.

Louis prized it out of her hands. "Don't drink too much, you'll make yourself sick! He focused on her arm. "How did you do this?"

"A branch knocked me off the horse," she said quietly sensing he was not pleased.

"Horse?" Louis looked back at her face. "What horse?"

He seemed to come closer, to stand taller though she knew he had not moved. Jessica focused on the ground. "The White horse," she whispered.

He grabbed her by the chin forcing her to look at him. "The White! You foolish woman, that horse isn't properly broken, how did you saddle it?"

"I rode bareback." Jessica flicked her eyes to his face, and waited for him to explode. She felt a swell of anger ebbing and flowing in the pit of her stomach. He should have been proud of her and for some reason, the fact that he wasn't left her feeling empty.

"You rode bareback!" he cried, gripping her elbow hard as he poured some of the water on her wound.

Jessica seized her anger and pulled away from him. "I'm a good rider!" she hissed and yanked out of his hold as she stepped backwards. The memory of her dream, of him beckoning to her to come to him, being held by him, tormented her. Jessica shook the memory away. It was only a dream. She took in some deep breaths to force her emotions away.

Louis lunged at her catching her by the wrist and drew her roughly to him. Jessica spun in his hold. She wanted to struggle, but the feel of his arm around her waist drained her of all energy.

"Yes, I can see what a good rider you are." His words caressed her hair just for a moment. Then the force of them stung her. "Where's the horse now?" His sarcasm was unmistakable. Louis turned her to face him, lifted her chin, but she wouldn't look at him. He fought hard to control his own emotions. Holding her close was not a good idea. Her femininity lured him, reeled him in so he had to fight against it. Louis poured more water on the gash, wiping away the dry blood so he could see the cut. "You could have been killed, Jessica," he said tersely as he crouched and ripped the hemmed part of her skirt and tied it around the wound.

The pain brought the hidden tears to her eyes. She held them back and hung her head so he couldn't see he'd hurt her.

He led her to the wagon and pushed her roughly to the ground where it was shaded. "Sit here and wait!"

She watched the men work. Louis was bare down to the waist. Jessica found it hard not to look at him. His skin was tanned and smooth, shiny and wet from perspiration. She was fascinated by the way his well-toned muscles rippled when he moved. Strange sensations traveled through her. The same butterfly feelings, she had experienced when he had pinned her against the dining room door, twined in the pit of her stomach. She remembered his warm breath and the feeling of his lips on her skin.

Jessica's face flushed, ashamed of recalling these sensations with pleasure. He had intruded on her person and she should be remembering these feelings with disgust. She looked away completely confused. How could the look of him, the smell of him, and the memories of his touch make her feel pleasure when she hated him? When there had been another whom she had also hated, whose touched had repulsed her. Jessica could not understand the difference.

The urge to look at him again was out of Jessica's control. When she lifted her head, her eyes connected with his. He was leaning on the shovels handle, his chin on his hands, watching her. Jessica flushed, the same connection as earlier washed over her. She gasped in air as her stomach seemed to come up into her throat. She quickly looked away; he already disapproved of her so staring at him would only make the situation worse. 

Copyright© 2019 by Donna Fieldhouse. All rights reserved