“She stole it! I know it!”Her face was flushed, but whether it was embarrassment, or rag

“She stole it! I know it!”

Her face was flushed, but whether it was embarrassment, or rage, or too much rum, John didn’t know anymore. He’d always love her in her capacity as his mother, but she hadn’t aged gracefully - neither in body nor in spirit. Proper old lady from the old country she was; imbued with the same insular thoughts - or lack thereof. A woman of her stature wouldn’t want to be thought of wearing lacy, provocative clothes; but a woman of her age might want to try and recapture some of her youth - if only for her own self-image if not to entice an even older husband. Though she would scarcely admit to her own son what garment the maid had took; and focused her rage on the theft instead of the secret.

“She’s the only one who came into my quarters,” she insisted, but the combination of her emotions only made her words slur. “I want an example made of her!”

“Yes, Mother,” the young man replied. Yes, let’s, he thought; surely you’re not much of an example.

He picked up a riding crop on his way out, mostly to prevent his mother from keeping up her tirade when he was out of earshot.

The day was hot, and even hotter just after midday. Everyone was in the fields, save a couple of house staff - though with this heat, they’d as like as not be in the river on the other side of the fields. The land of eternal summer, indeed. It would be unbearable if not for the slight salty breeze from the sea less than a mile away.

The idea of a slave stealing was rather silly; it’s not like they could own anything. He stalked around the house towards the slave quarters. And there she was, just in the shade. If his mother was too proper, Daisy was the exact opposite. He couldn’t help himself grin as he saw her coyly glance at him from the half-opened doors.

“You’ve been a bad girl,” he said, stalking forward out of the sun.

“Am I going to be punished, sir?” She breathed.

“She wants to hear you scream.”

She glanced from the crop in his hand, to the growing bulge in his trousers, to his face, then pushed her hips a little further back. “I’ll scream, Master. Really, really loud.”

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