Her Every Pleasure by Gaelen Foley Read Free Book Online Page A

Gabriel’s property.
    “I don’t see a saddle on him,” he murmured. “Nice-looking animal. He must have got free from one of the local farms. I’d better go and put a rope over him. His owner will probably be here soon, wanting him back.”
    “Do you, er, need any help capturing him?” Sophia asked uneasily.
    The dazzling smile he flashed as he left the doorway took her off guard. “That’s all right,” he said in a confident murmur. “I’ve got a bit of experience when it comes to horses.”
    He strode off without further ado to capture the bay. Sophia gnawed her lip with a guilty wince as she watched him go. Then, behind her, Mrs. Moss demanded her attention and put her right to work.
    Sophia hopped to it, determined to explore her temporary role as maid until her bodyguards arrived, but still, she was a bit surprised that no allowance was made for her to eat, as Gabriel had promised. She shrugged it off, however, not pressing the matter. A lowly maid would have to follow orders, and meals, no doubt, were sometimes skipped. Besides, she had no intention of complaining when she knew that many of her people lived with hunger like this every day.
    Her duties started immediately, and it didn’t take long to grasp that Mrs. Moss was eager to give her all of the most wretched jobs.
    Scrubbing a large sink full of pots and pans from the previous night took her two hours, but at least it was less complicated than her next task. When Mrs. Moss ordered her to pluck a dead chicken for the master’s supper, Sophia barely knew how to begin. It was a horrid job, and her ignorance of how to undertake it proved, frustratingly, to be a prevailing theme of the day.
    It didn’t take Mrs. Moss long to realize that the new maid couldn’t cook—at all. So the old woman set her to the simpler task of peeling a mountain of potatoes and chopping another mountain of vegetables. Blazes, she thought, her hands aching after an hour of handling the blunt little knife, how much did this man eat?
    Her stomach rumbled continuously, reminding her that she, meanwhile, still hadn’t had her breakfast. Normally it was served to her on a silver tray while she lay abed, exotic fruits and hot chocolate and tea and whatever new delicacies of the day that her chef could dream up. Today, however, it was two in the afternoon before Mrs. Moss finally gave her fifteen minutes to herself.
    Sophia gulped down a hunk of bread with a cup of cold coffee left over from Gabriel’s breakfast, but her lesson in the life of a maid was not over yet.
    Her next assignment involved going through all of the rooms and trimming the candlewicks and refilling the lanterns’ oil. She had barely finished when Mrs. Moss hurried her outside to bring in more firewood.
    With her thoughts still churning over the attack of last night and her private certainty that Ali Pasha was behind it, she looked around for Gabriel. She did not see him anywhere, but was startled to note that the autumn sun was already setting.
    Good Lord, she had been working practically since sunup and there was still no end in sight. She took a moment to stretch her neck a little. Her back was sore from bending over that sink for so long.
    In the next moment, she heard the housekeeper bellowing for her to hurry. She quickly bent and piled a few split logs into her arms, then sighed with exhaustion and forced herself to go back in.
    The chicken and vegetables were now boiling away in a cauldron on the hearth and the lovely smell made her stomach grumble even more. Thanks to her help, Mrs. Moss now had the chaotic kitchen under control, but the old woman was not nearly done with her yet.
    She put a feather duster in Sophia’s hand and warned her that tomorrow was laundry day; she could change the master’s bedding as soon as she had finished dusting the upstairs.
    “And don’t forget the hallways!”
    At least the new task gave her the means to escape the old woman’s unceasing bad mood. She withdrew