Devil's Desire Read Free

might be able to stay with him and remain his trainer. But Elysia knew that she could never stop worrying about Ariel nor would she ever be able to forget him.
    Graystone Manor was as gloomy and gray as its name implied, Elysia thought, as they drove up the circular drive to the austere entrance of the house. She felt depressed and subdued after the day's journey in silence with her aunt.
    That had been two years ago. Elysia's thoughts came back to the present as she stood again, staring up at the gray house that never seemed to change.
    With a deep sigh she walked steadily up the slope towards it, passing through the grove of oaks, strong and invincible, withstanding the winds and rains which beat down upon them year after year, only to seem more unconquerable each new spring. Ifonly she had some of their strength and durability, she thought with mounting despair as she skirted around to the side of the house. Elysia walked to the servants' entrance and quietly pushed open the heavy wooden door, anxious not to attract attention. She climbed slowly up the back stairs to the first landing, then through a narrow door to another flight of stairs concealed behind it—the uncarpeted steps leading to the servants' quarters, in which she had a room, but separated even further by another, and narrower flight of steps that led to the attic. There Elysia had a bed and cast-off chair of faded chintz, a threadbare rug, and a small chest-of-drawers to keep her meager belongings in. Her few pitiful dresses hung on a rod fixed in the comer, and seemed to rebuke her for their sad appearance.
    Elysia stared at her clothes with disgust. They hung limply like the rags they were; the elbows mended time and again, the cuffs frayed and color worn. It pained her to think of the sachet-scented closet full of brightly-colored satin and velvet dresses she had once worn; the matching shoes peeking out saucily beneath the row of dresses. Elysia turned away, her heavily-clad feet in their wooden clogs noisily raking the floor; practical shoes that carried one through the sodden fields and muddy lanes, repulsing the wetness as thinly-soled. satin and leather slippers never would.
    Elysia shivered in her damp dress, which now felt clammy against her chilled skin. She was beginning to unbutton her bodice when a knock sounded on the door. She watched silently as the doorknob was turned experimentally but the look that she had placed on the door held the unannounced visitor at bay. The knocking came again, but more impatiently this time.
    "'Ere, answer up. Oi knows ye be in ther. Oi've a message fer ye from the Mistress."
    Elysia opened the door reluctantly, dreading the scene that would follow as she faced the burly footman standing insolently before her, a sneering smile on his thick lips.          .
    "Well now, that be better," he said as his eyes roved over her rosy cheeks and disarrayed red-gold curls.
    "What is the message?" Elysia asked coldly.
    "'Ere now that's not whats Oi calls friendly. Ye knows Oi could make yer lot a bit easier if ye was te be a bit more friendly with me." He put out his big calloused hand, the nails dirty and broken, to touch a button that Elysia had missed re-fastening in her haste.
    She slapped his hand away, glaring at him in warning. "Don't you dare touch me!"
    He only laughed, but his eyes were as cold and deadly as a snake's watching its prey squirm before it pounces.
    "The fine lady, eh? Thought that'd have been worked out of ye by now—but no, ye still be te good fer the likes o' me. Well, we'll see, my fine 'un." He grinned unpleasantly, leering into Elysia's face. "Oi'll have ye yet, my pretty, and ask any o' the maids if Oi don't treats 'em good—real good."
    He flicked the latch on the door with a contemptuous finger. "And don't be thinkin' that little bit o' metal's going to keep me out."
    "You ought to be flogged, and if you continue with these insults, l'll—"
    "Ye'll what?" he said in an ugly voice.