TW: Brief Sexual Content

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BACK AND FORTH, BACK AND FORTH. I pulled against him, he pulled against me. I shouldn't be here, I shouldn't be doing this, but I have to for Mary. It's all for Mary, I remind myself again.

All for Mary...

With a startling crack, blood seeps through the floorboards beneath the stained red carpet. His lifeless eyes stare up into mine, completely hollow. There is nothing inside them, not anymore. Only the reflection of their killer.

I still have the medicine. I run. I run so fast but the walls are closing in, the corridor catching up with me. I fall and the vials are broken, my only hope destroyed. His death was for nothing.

Mary stands at the base of the gallows, head in her hands as she weeps for the loss of the one she loved most in the world. I can see her through my tears, my small form shaking as the noose is tightened around my neck.

Suddenly, I drop and it's all over. But as I swing lifelessly in the wind, waiting for them to cut me down, I see him. Lord Hadrian Mercer. And he's laughing at me. Laughing at my death and how simple things could have been if justice had been served the way it was supposed to be.

A woman stands beside him, Verna, and she links her arm with his. Her pretty engagement ring shimmers in the sunlight and she whispers something in his ear. All the while her eyes are trained upon me. Taunting me, even in death.

'He is mine,' she says. 'He will never be yours.'

And then I'm awake and I can't breathe. A hand is on my forehead, a damp cloth running along my sweaty skin.

"Theo?" Mary asks. But it isn't Mary. No, it's the maid. The one I'm supposed to stay away from.

Evelyn.

My head is pounding and she looks worried. I go to speak but I can't, my throat is so dry even the air scratches it. Before I know it, water is running down my throat and it hurts as it brings my barren insides back to life.

"How are you feeling? You've been restless all night, mumbling and... and crying in your sleep."

I only realise then that her hand is behind my head, holding it up as she moves the glass away from my lips. I feel like I've drunk gallons and gallons but it's still over half-full and suddenly I'm so, so cold.

She pulls my blankets up when I start to shiver and checks my temperature with the back of her hand. "You're not as hot as before. That's good. You had us all worried there for a second."

And then it's quiet again as I start to come to. How long have I been asleep? When was the last time I ate something? My stomach grumbles but the thought of eating makes me feel nauseous. 

"Was it him?" she asked, her eyes flickering away as if it hurt her to look at me, "Did he hurt you again? Is that what... is that what you were dreaming about?"

Although I still felt somewhat out of it and it took me a moment to unjumble her words in my mind, I found my eyes widening the moment they finally registered and shook my head. And when I finally spoke, my voice was hoarse and scratchy, every syllable like thorns against my skin, "No. No... it wasn't... it wasn't that. It's my fault... It's all my fault..."

She placed her soft hand on my forehead again, the fingers moving gently across my skin, smoothing my hair down until it lay flat against my skull.

"It isn't your fault," she said. "None of this is."

But she didn't know what she was talking about. She didn't know what I was talking about. And she was wrong. It was my fault I was sick. It was my fault I was here. Every decision, every mistake I ever made. They all led me here to this place, to this bed. Even to the fever that now tore through my body.

"It was before..." I coughed, my dry throat screaming at me to rest. "Before I came here... I hurt someone... Killed someone... I..."

Then it was all dark again, my fever consuming me whole.

And there he was, Hadrian, and he was absolutely delectable. I knew it was a dream, he would never treat me so delicately outside of one. Yet, in my delirium it felt so fucking real.

We were in his bed, tangled together between his sheets. We kissed, tongues sliding over each other's, tasting every corner, devouring our own flesh. He tasted better than anything I'd ever tasted. And then I was in his lap and he was inside me, hitting that one spot that had me reeling, my toes curling as I buried my face into his neck.

But when I pulled back to kiss him again, he wasn't him anymore. His black locks turned muddy blonde, his icy eyes deepening into a chocolate brown. His pale skin now sported a scattering of freckles and his smile... Oh, his smile was everything. Where Lord Mercer originally sat now resided my first love. The man I could never have. The man who loved my sister instead of me — Thomas Hughes.

And just as quickly as he had appeared, he was gone and now Mary was the one beneath me.

With a jolt, I was awake again. My heart tight in my chest and sickly stomach twisting. Forcing myself into a sitting position I threw up all over the sheets, choking on my own saliva, coughing violently as the bile rose into my throat.

It was nothing but clear liquid and mucus. I hadn't eaten properly in days, weeks even. I wasn't sure how long I had been sick, so delirious that the passing of time was no longer measurable.

My body trembled as I tried to pull myself together, calming my ragged breaths. Sweat trickled from the sides of my forehead and across my brow. My entire body was soaked, my mouth dried, and my limbs heavy.

I was so dizzy but no one else was there. No one to help me. No one to change my sheets or clean me of my own vomit.

I almost fell when I pushed myself from my bed. I glanced down at the sheets, watching my bodily fluids seeping through them, and began to walk with shaking legs towards the door. It seemed so far away, as if the room had doubled, no tripled in size and I had to brace myself on whatever surface was nearby as I stumbled along.

It was dark and thankfully my candles were already extinguished for I knocked the candelabra over, my ears wincing in shock when it clattered to the floor. Then went the chair at my desk as I fell into the wall, only just keeping myself upright as I moved closer still to the door.

Finally, I was the one tumbling as I fell but when I landed, it was not the floor I had collided with. The body was warm and soft against mine. Strong arms holding my dead weight as I slipped in and out of a daze.

Next thing I knew I was in the bath. At least, I think I was. The water was warm and the steam cleared my blocked nostrils, melting through the mucus inside them. I looked up at the ceiling, watching that steam rise and swirl around in the air above me.

When I moved my head, everything was a blur but it was him. I know it was. Lord Mercer was sitting at my side, scrubbing me down with a washcloth. He pressed the back of his hand to my forehead before wiping my wet curls away from my eyes.

"Theo?"

I smiled. It was all I could manage. My way of telling him that I was okay. Or, I would be.

I closed my eyes briefly and when I opened them, I was back in my bed. The sheets were clean and I think I caught sight of one of the maids leaving with a basket of dirty laundry.

And he was still there, sitting at the side of the bed.

"There's some water if you need it." He gestured to the glass at my bedside but when I looked at it all I could see was a fuzz of colour. "The maid will be back with more medicine for you in the morning. Just..." He paused, his brows furrowing as he stood to leave. "Just get some rest."

And then there was nothing all over again. Only darkness and the sound of the rain pattering against the window outside.

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My eyes wearily opened and the fog I had been trapped in for days on end had finally passed. I could just about think clearly again but my memories of the past few days were cloudy. I remembered some things. How Evelyn checked in on me and made sure I at least drank some water. I remembered pieces of my dreams and how they haunted me. I even remembered taking that bath, the feeling of his hands so gently wiping me clean.

I realised then that it had been the first time I was naked around him without any other expectations. There was no shame or lust or desire, just him taking care of me when I was not fit to do so myself. If it was even him there at all.

He could have sent anyone to bathe me. To change my sheets and make sure I found my way back to my bed so that I could rest and recover. It could have been anyone, he had the servants for it, but it was he that came. It was he who washed me, dressed me and carried me back to my bed.

"That really must have been an awful fever," he remarked when I asked him about it that day.

I should have known better than to think he would admit to it — admit to caring for me. I was never really sure if he ever did or if it was all just another part of his game. Even now, I wasn't sure if he was just toying with me, but what did he have to gain from it? How could he have even known I would remember it?

I sighed and continued stacking his books back onto the shelves. "Of course, I'm sorry. Why would you see to my care personally? That's what us servants are for."

He didn't even look up from his work as he hummed in agreement. "Yes, it is."

He'd been busy all week, or so I'd been told. While I was bedridden he had no one else come to clean his study which had since fallen into disrepair. Papers and books were scattered everywhere and even ornaments had been knocked over. If I didn't know any better I'd say he'd wrecked the place himself but that just didn't make any sense.

I knew he had a temper but I couldn't understand what would anger him so much he would trash his own study. Maybe it was one of the other servants or a business dealing gone wrong? Though even then that didn't sound right. He had a temper but he almost always had it under control. Perhaps it was Verna, a lovers spat? She'd remained in the estate for a little while after I fell sick but now there was not even a trace of her.

A part of me hoped it was because of her. Not because I hated her as much as I once hated him or because she taunted me every chance she could get, but because she had everything I knew I would never have. Money, power and status. But most of all, she had him. She had him without strings or contracts. She was his lover and I was his servant, something to keep him occupied while she was away.

Nothing more. I would never be anything more.

As though he was aware of my thoughts, he placed his book down and turned to me with a stoic expression on his face, the mask he wore to keep me guessing. I never knew what he was really thinking, not unless it involved pinning me down and fucking me until he was satisfied.

And suddenly it all came rushing back. The way he held me out there in the gardens. The way he kissed me, so full of burning passion. The way he satisfied me in a way no one else ever could.

I felt the flush of my cheeks, burning hot at the memory. If I was truly just a servant would he have touched me like that? Did he touch her like that, I wondered? I had heard her moans and cries of pleasure but when I thought back to the sinful sounds he elected from me, hers no longer sounded so pure. She had put them on, I realised. She knew I could hear and she wanted me to. She was toying with me just as much as he was.

She had slept with him time and time again, long before I ever came into his life, but she had not experienced the pure, blinding ecstasy I had. He had never touched her the way he touched me. Nor had he kissed her the way he kissed me for that very first time. I was sure of it. Or I was still delusional and hanging onto the smallest display of true kindness he'd ever shown me.

Still, when I thought about whether he would look after Verna with such care if she was ill, I couldn't quite picture the image. Then again, even though I had seen it and it had certainly happened, I could barely picture him doing the same for me.

"Theo?"

With a hum, I shook my head, realising now that Lord Mercer had asked me to do something. Had I really been so caught up in my own thoughts that I wasn't listening to him? What punishment would I face for slacking off again?

My face flushed at the thought.

"Are you alright? Is your fever coming back? Maybe you should go and lie down?" He was so sincere when he said it. I could hear it in his voice, see it swirling in his eyes and watched it crease into his brow. He was worried.

I turned back to the shelves behind me, putting away the last few books as I replied, "No, sorry, I'm alright. Just got lost in my thoughts then, that's all. What did you need?"

He frowned when I turned back to him and, for a moment, I really did think he was going to punish me again. And, although my arse hurt just thinking of it, a darker part of me felt excited.

Then he stood from his desk, closing the distance between us as he raised his hand towards me but the smack I was waiting for never came.

I don't like to hurt you. His words from that day rang in my mind. Were they really true?

The back of his hand rested lightly against my forehead as he felt for any sign that my temperature was returning and although he seemed satisfied that my condition was not worsening again, he still insisted I go and take a break.

"I can't have my personal servant fall ill again." His expression returned to its usual indifference as he spoke, returning to his desk to continue his work. "We will be going into London tomorrow if you are well enough, I have a few errands to run."

"London?"

He sighed. "Yes, Theo. London. And if you behave, perhaps I will allow you a short visit to see your sister, but you will not be going anywhere if you were unwell. So, I suggest you go and get some more rest."

Without a word, I bowed my head in thanks and retired for the day. I couldn't lie, I actually felt disappointed that nothing else had happened. That he wasn't angry at me and didn't want to punish or fuck me into obedience. It was unusual for him, so much so that I realised it had actually unsettled me.

I only hoped that our errands in London would be short and pleasant and that I would be able to see my beloved sister Mary after so long apart. I wanted to know how she was doing. I needed to know if she was well. It had been a thought gnawing at the back of my mind for a while now, a thought that only subsided when all others were consumed by thoughts of him.

But somehow I couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to our city visit than Lord Mercer was letting on...

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A/N: Another slightly shorter chapter. I hope you enjoyed it!

Do you think Theo's illness has finally passed?

What about their trip to London? What do you think Lord Mercer is really up to?