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I first glimpsed Aspenwald in the early spring when everything still seemed dead. A month earlier, I had buried my father and, with him, all of my joy. Every plan I had for the future was dashed and every hope ground to powder. The black tracings of bone-bare trees along the drive to the main house and the gray, unpromising stone of the mansion suited my mood.

Uncle Henry wasn't a blood relative, so I was fortunate he allowed me to come. Not simply allowed; he invited me with a letter so nicely written that he made it seem that I was doing him a favor. I had nowhere else to go. My mother had died when I was just a child; all other family was either dead or remote. So, even though I hardly remembered Henry Aspen, I accepted his invitation with thanks.

The carriage stopped. I stepped out of it and into the bitterness. My maid, Mary, followed close behind.

A long, lean man in black broadcloth bowed to me. I offered my hand and curtsied. "Are you my Uncle Henry?" I asked.

"No, Miss. I'm his man Robert. He instructed me to meet you and show you your room."

"Thank you," I said. "This is Mary."

"An honor Missus."

Robert led us into the stone mansion. Aspenwald was as foreboding on the inside as it had been on the outside. It echoed with emptiness and seemed constructed in a way designed to confuse. Hallways meandered and branched. Sconces with dripping candles made every shadow tremble.

Finally, Robert stopped in front of a door and pushed it open on its creaking hinges. It revealed a room that was plain but clean. Someone must have prepared it for me. The curtains were open to the milky light.

"Dinner is at six," Robert told me. "I'll come for you and see you back to your room after. You best not wander the halls at night."

"Of course she wouldn't," scolded Mary.

Robert's face turned ruddy. "I only meant that Aspenwald is haunted, Miss. I wouldn't want you frightened."

"Haunted?" I said, smiling for the first time. "You believe such things?"

He nodded. "It's a strange spirit with a strange effect. I've heard it. You should be safe from it if you stay in your room."

"Utter nonsense," Mary said, shooing him with her hand.

"I never lie, Missus," Robert said, winking at her. He headed to the door and looked back at me. "I'll come back for you at six."

"Thank you, Robert."

#

Mary lit a fire in the fireplace, which made the cold room a hint cozier. We spread my quit on the bed and put my books out on the shelves. Mary made me a cup of tea and I read The Tempest to her while she knitted. It felt almost homey. When she got me ready for dinner, I nearly could have imagined that I was going to meet my father.

That illusion was dispelled the instant I walked into the dining room, whiffed the strong liquor, and saw my uncle for the first time. The man that stood before me was tall and richly dressed, with a neatly trimmed beard. He had a pocket watch in his waistcoat and a ring of keys at his waist.

His eyes raked over me in a most un-familial way. "This is Emily, then."

"Yes," I said curtsying. "It's good to remember you."

His eyes lingered on my décolletage. "You've become quite the young lady. What are you? Sixteen?"

"I'm seventeen now, Uncle."

"A mature seventeen, no doubt," he said.

His eyes slid over me again. A tiny smile played on his lips. He stepped closer to me--so close I could I could smell the whiskey on his breath.

"You should call me Henry," he said, his tone intimate. "My wife was your father's sister, so we're not really relatives."

My heart sped, like a warning. "If you like."

He led me to the table and sat beside me. A male server placed a plate in front of me. Another filled my glass with water. I took a long drink to sooth my dry mouth.

"The roads were very dusty," I managed.

"Yes," Henry said. "But it looks like rain. It seems you brought something with you to slake my drought."

I understood the double meaning and chose not to respond. Instead, I tried to think of somewhere--anywhere--that I could stay besides here. My father and I had many friends, but none well enough off to host me indefinitely.

I tried for deflection. I coaxed him to talk about Aspenwald, which he did with some pride. It was a family home; there used to be a nearby village. But the village was gone now and the families moved on. Only Henry remained.

I thought I had managed to cool his intentions. How wrong I was. Partway through the meal, Henry showed a sly expression and said, "You have something on your mouth."

Before I had a chance to respond, he reached over, held my face by the jaw, brushed a finger slowly over my lips, and offered it to me. I hesitated.

"What?" he asked. "You don't like the sauce?"

He still had a tight hold on my face, so I licked his finger as he bade me.

"I remember your mother," Henry told me. "She was a sweet, pretty thing, like you. Ripe for marriage, as I recall."

My hands shook. I hoped he didn't notice. "What do you recall of my father?" I asked.

The mention of my father had the desired effect; he finally let go of me. "That he was luckier than any man had a right to be."

We ate in silence a bit longer. I was torn between my upbringing of social obligation and my sincere desire to flee to my room. In the end, I decided it was more prudent to not show my fear.

"I play the pianoforte," I told my uncle. "If you have an instrument, I could entertain you."

"I do not. Perhaps I should order one... as a gift."

I ignored the offer. It was much too large of a gift to come without expectations. "I could also read to you," I continued. "I've brought my Shakespeare and Homer."

Thunder sounded. It was still far off. Henry's eyes darted to the window and then back to me. "It's later than I thought. Not tonight." Relief flooded me. "Robert will be here soon to escort you back to your room. See to it that you stay in your room after dark."

"Don't tell me you believe in ghosts, too."

"I believe that the hallways aren't safe for you at night, so you are to stay out of them."

He spoke so fiercely, I drew back. "Of course," I replied. "I'll stay in my room after dark."

"Good."

Robert came into the room and I stood; Henry did too. "Thank you for your hospitality," I said.

"You're very welcome, Emily. Now, kiss me good-night."

My stomach lurched but I stood on tip-toe and leaned in to brush my lips against his bearded cheek. He smelled like whisky and sweat. He moved to return the gesture and I barely turned my head in time. His lips pressed against the corner of my mouth and held there a moment.

"I'm very glad you've come to stay with me," he whispered.

I stepped back. "Good night, Uncle." Then, I let Robert lead me back to my room.

#

The storm that raged around Aspenwald that night seemed intent on blowing down the stone. Lightning flashed in the window and the thunderclaps were almost simultaneous. I hadn't jumped from a storm since I was a child, but I clutched the quilt now.

"Poor kitten," Mary said, using my father's pet name for me. "I'll get some milk to warm. That will put you right back to sleep."

"Henry warned me again about walking the halls at night," I told her.

"Oh, posh. No ghost is going to bother old Mary."

She was pale and I suspected wanted something to do, so I gave my assent. And I was quickly regretful. Being left alone in my chamber, without even her presence, made the storm that much more ominous. I thought of my uncle and worried about him coming to my room. I got out of bed and put on my dressing gown and slippers, pacing the floor.

I waited for what seemed like an hour but Mary didn't come back. The storm blew aside until only driving rain remained and still she didn't return. I lit a candle and tried to read my Homer. I couldn't concentrate and returned to pacing. Finally, I opened the door and peeked into the cold hallway.

Nothing. I thought of Robert's and Henry's warnings, but I could no more believe in ghosts than fairies. The leading danger to walking the hallways was catching a chill, I imagined. Or, perhaps, encountering my uncle.

I stepped out in my slippers and listened, hoping to hear Mary's quick step. But that wasn't what I heard. No, what came to my ear was some sort of music, like bells, or piano, or wind chimes, even. It was faint but I was sure it came from within the house, rather than outside of it.

I had an undeniable urge to follow the sound. So much so, that I walked a few paces away from my room before I made the choice to do so. I looked back at my bedroom, closed the door, and continued down the hallway.

The music led me away from my room and down a passageway I hadn't visited yet. It was much louder here. Light spilled into the hallway through the crack of a door left ajar. I intended to slip past but conversation slowed my progress.

"...damned thing making that confounded racket. We should call the priest again."

"Father McKenny won’t come back. Not after last time. They take a celibacy vow."

"No vow is going to stop the iron in my trousers."

I peeked through the crack in the door and saw two male servants. One leaned against the stone wall, his britches lowered, and his hand on his organ. I had only seen naked boys--babies, really. This was a full grown man with his full grown anatomy on display. Even though they didn't see me, I flushed.

"Want me to suck it for you?" the taller of the two asked.

"I heard the Master's niece was staying in the quiet part of the house." the other answered, still stroking slowly. "I'd rather she do it." My flush only got hotter.

"The only cock she's going to be sucking is his," the taller man said, adding his hand to the stroke. "You should take what you can get."

The first man closed his eyes and his breathing grew rapid. "All right, then," he said in a husky voice. The taller man fell onto his knees, like in prayer, but then took the other man's member into his mouth, drawing it in an out slowly, licking the end of it as if it was a sweet. The man on his feet moaned loudly.

How he managed to fit the whole thing in his mouth and down his throat, I didn't know. He worked diligently, though, drawing it in more completely with each stroke, asking for no relief from his position. Indeed, the man standing didn't offer any; he whimpered for more, putting two hands in his lover's hair.

I was ashamed that I still watched, but I found it difficult to look away. The music in my ears seemed to be part of my pleasure, though I couldn't say how. Inexplicably, I had the urge to enter the room and join the two men; thankfully, my sensibility prevented it.

Finally, with his eyes closed and an expression somewhere between pain and ecstasy, the man standing cried out. The man on his knees spluttered. In a few seconds, it was over.

"Better?" asked the man on his knees, licking his lips.

"For the moment. It won't be five minutes before I'm up again. Damned spirit."

"Well, while we wait, would you do me?"

I slipped past the door and down the hallway before they could resume, throbbing and nauseous in equal measure by what I had just seen. And what was the 'infernal noise' the one man had complained about? The music was as lovely as church bells.

Down the hall much, much further, and around several corners that left me despairing that I would ever find my room again, the passage hit a dead end. Marred portraits decorated the walls and a threadbare tapestry covered the stone from ceiling to floor.

The music was clearest here. It made no sense to me but I was more convinced than ever that this was no spirit. The music I heard was real enough; it was made by a real person.

I backtracked down the hall but the music grew quieter. I returned back to where it was loudest, looking at the ceiling and floor, wondering if there was a way forward that I had missed. Finally, on an impulse, I looked behind the tapestry. To my surprise, there was a door hidden behind it. It swung wide under my hand.

Curiosity drove me. I closed the door behind me and moved into a dark passageway. It echoed with the music and, somehow, the sound was even more beautiful down here. Candles gave the barest of light. I continued on, following the song.

I came to a door--the only one along the stone hallway. The music seemed to certainly come from behind it. I hesitated for a moment, but I felt compelled to open the door. Like something was calling me from within. I could no more have returned to my room at this point than I could have turned into a bird and flown away.

I pushed the door open and stepped inside.

There, in the candle light, stood a gentleman. Golden, even in this dimness: his hair and skin remembering the sun. He had a fine face, a very fine face and he wasn't much older than me in appearance. He wore breeches and a rich tail coat, like he was going to a dinner party.

And, he was in chains.

A wide iron collar cuffed his neck; shackles restrained his wrists; the leg irons seemed unnecessary, but he wore those, too. Each restraint was connected to a considerable chain, which was, in turn, connected to the stone wall.

He bowed and everything clanged. "Good evening."

"Good evening," I said softly, curtseying in reflex. "You're not a ghost."

"No, I'm not," I stood, just looking at him for a moment. "I would ask for an introduction if there was anyone to ask." His tone gently teased me.

I flushed. This wasn't exactly proper: me standing in my dressing gown and slippers. "I'm Emily White. Henry Aspen is my uncle."

"And I am Allister. It's an honor to meet you."

His voice drew me like siren song. And it dispelled anything I might have been thinking about before I entered the room: Mary gone missing, the sexual act I had witnessed, and even the mystery of the door behind the tapestry. I stepped further into the room, closer to him.

"Forgive me," I said, "but was that you making that music?"

He smiled at me and I stepped forward again, without even thinking about it. It was like everything about him beckoned.

"I sing when I'm lonely in the hopes it will bring me company. And look how lucky I am."

"Singing? It sounded a pianoforte or bells...." I looked around. There were no instruments anywhere around. Just a table piled with books and a wooden chair pushed back.

"It was only singing," he said.

I looked at the heavy iron bands that restrained him. "May I ask you something else?"

"Of course, Miss White."

"Why are you in chains?"

He looked at me with eyes so blue. "That's complicated."

"I have a quick mind and a ready ear."

He paused a moment, looking at the ground, seeming to choose his words. "When I sing, it has an effect on men. I give them virility and enthusiasm and need."

"I've seen it," I said.

"It has an effect on women, as well."

There was a tingling at the back of my neck. "It's arousing for us, too, but we follow the sound."

"Precisely." He looked at me, his eyes piercing. It was like he could see my beating heart. "Your uncle wanted the virility for him and his men so he chained me here. He didn't foresee the affect it would have on the women."

"They came to you?" I whispered.

He nodded, looking almost ashamed of himself. He didn't need to tell me what had happened. I wanted him to touch me; I wanted to press myself against him. It was a need so powerful it was like eating or breathing. He may not have been a ghost, but he wasn't a normal man either.

"What are you?" I asked.

The blue eyes didn't blink. "I used to be an angel, but I fell. Now, I'm nothing in particular."

"Are you dangerous?"

"No, though your uncle doesn't believe it. I am a millstone to him. He fears releasing me so he must stay and guard me. The other men took their wives away; his died. He's left wanting with little outlet."

"He scares me," I told him. "He looks at me as if he wants something from me."

"He does. You're a beautiful girl. All men want something from you."

For the first time his eyes strayed from mine and lingered on my lips. It was the opposite of how I felt when Henry's eyes roved over me. I had to restrain my thoughts; they were lusty and unlady-like.

Instead, I tried to focus on how badly this creature had been used. Surely, it must have taken some time for the village men to understand Allister's effect on women. I wondered how long this poor angel had been chained here. Months? Years?

I stepped up to him, closer that I should have, breaking my own social rules. "How are these chains released?"

"Your uncle holds the key. It's made of iron."

"I've seen the ring. He wears it on his belt."

"That will open the locks."

I bit my lip. "If I do this... if I get the key from my uncle and free you, you must help me leave here."

He lifted a hand and I let him touch my face. It sent thrills all over me. It filled me with a need that was like hunger. He looked at me with something like fondness. "If you free me from this place, I'll take you somewhere safe," he said.

"I'll be back tomorrow night."

"Before you go..." He drew a thumb over my lips and tilted my face up to his. "I also want something from you, Miss White."

He didn't need to say it; he was asking for a kiss. There was nothing I wanted more. "Please," I breathed.

The moment his lips touched mine, joy and ecstasy suffused me. Heat radiated from my lips to every part of me. His chains clanged and he cupped my jaw with his hands. Oh, his lips were strong and demanding. How I wanted to open my dressing gown and give him leave to do anything he liked.

He broke the kiss. "You're a virgin," he moaned. "It's the sweetest energy."

"I am."

He kissed me again and fire flashed through me. Heat pounded in places I had never noticed. It took everything in me to push on his chest. "Stop, stop," I gasped.

He took his hands off of me and stepped back. I pressed my palm over my thundering heart.

"My apologies," he said, tension in his voice.

"None are required," I told him.

His eyes flickered to the ceiling. "You must go now if you're to arrive at your room ahead of Mary. Stay to the left hallways, and you find your way to your door."

"How do you...?"

"I know you, now. I see you."

"I'll be back tomorrow. I promise."

I hurried back down the passage and found the door that opened behind the tapestries. I scurried as quietly as I could, keeping to the left-hand hallways. I passed the room that I had peeped into, but the door was now closed. Sooner than I would have dared hope, and without being detected, I found myself in front of my door. I let myself in and stoked the dying fire.

Only a few minutes later, Mary returned. She had a small pitcher of milk and her hair was mussed. Her cheeks were pink. She looked ten years younger.

I lifted my eyebrows at her. "Were you in Robert's company?" I asked.

Her whole face went red. "I... How did you...?" She hung her head. "I don't know what got into me, Miss."

"I do," I told her. "And I need your help."

#

Coquette was not a talent of mine. However, Henry had been alone the past six years and he had Allister singing his song every night. At least I had that advantage.

Mary dressed me in a frock that had been given to me as a gift and that my father hadn't approved of. The neckline was too low and the pink too giddy. I said a small prayer of apology to my father and to God for what I was about to do.

Mary powdered my chest and dressed my hair in the latest style, whispering pieces of advice. Lean forward to distract his attention with your bosom. Remind him that you're womanly with your body, but act childlike to keep him disarmed. The more whiskey he consumed, the better.

Robert came for me at six and exchanged a few heated looks with my blushing Mary. I had a strong sense that he would return to her while I dealt with my uncle. I was almost jealous of their evening.

The cloying smell of whisky greeted me in the dining room. Henry crossed the floor to me, looking just a little unsteady on his feet. I was glad he had started early; it would make my evening easier. His pocket watch was in place as was his ring of keys. I saw the iron one sticking out from the rest, a little bigger and a little thicker.

I curtsied lower than I needed to. His eyes went directly to the neckline of my frock. "Good evening, Henry," I said sweetly.

"Good evening," he replied, tasting his drink. "Dinner is nearly ready."

I took a deep breath and hoped he didn't notice my nervousness. "Could I...?" I let my voice trail off and saw his interest kindled.

"What would you ask for?"

"I... my father didn't believe in drinking spirits. I've never tasted any."

The liquor gave him a loose smile. "Would you like to try it?"

I lifted my eyes to him, the way I had seen other girls do. "May I?"

He handed me his glass. It was a terrible brew. Even the tiny sip I managed burnt all the way to my belly. I must have grimaced, because he laughed at me.

"It gets better as you drink more," he told me. Then, he looked at me with a foxlike expression. "Would you like one of your own?"

"I would hate to waste it," I told him. "Would you share yours?"

"It would be a pleasure."

Every time I wet my lips on the glass, he took a swallow. By the time dinner was served, he had finished his tumbler and poured himself another. He walked me to the dining room table when dinner was ready and put a hand on my hair when I sat down.

I thought of the games I had seen during some of the evenings father and I spent visiting. Anywhere too liberal and we left early. Still, Father hadn't been privy to all of the flirting done quietly, behind books where the younger people lingered in the drawing rooms. Or, even more importantly, see how some of the young ladies interacted with older gentlemen.

I had always thought such things beneath me; now I was grateful for the education.

"You survived the storm, I see," Henry said.

"I'll admit to an anxious hour," I told him. "But it was just feminine nervousness. Of course Aspenwald is sound."

"Next time, I'll check on you. To sooth your anxiety."

I stifled a shudder and turned a grateful eye to him. "You're too kind to me."

We ate in silence for a while. I continued to pretend to sip at his drink; he continued to swallow at my pace. Finally, when my plate was nearly clean, I turned to him with what I hoped was a flirtatious smile.

"I have a memory of you from my childhood," I said.

He cocked his head at me. "What memory is that?"

"Once, when you visited, Father went out with Aunt Gina. I was just a child and displeased at being left behind. You amused me with your pocket watch. I remember how the hands turned and you showed me how you wound it."

He pushed his chair back and turned it towards me. "Such a memory. Come, sit on my lap and I'll show you again."

My flush was quite real and my repulsion hard to suppress. But, this was the opportunity I had been trying to create. I slipped off of my chair and onto his lap, perched across both legs. His arm snaked around me and pulled me to him.

He pulled his watch out of his waistcoat and opened it for me. Never had I felt so ridiculous or uncomfortable: being treated as a child still in short dresses and by a man who should know better. Still, I took his watch in two hands and cooed over it as if it was the most ingenious contraption that I had ever seen.

He stroked my arm up and down slowly.

"You wear your watch here," I said, trailing a finger from the pocket in the waistcoat to the loop on his trousers where he wore the key ring. "And your keys here." I touched the ring, knowing he was unlikely to object at having my hand closer to his sex. "Is there a key to every door in Aspenwald?" I asked, letting the metal clink through my fingers. I brushed the iron key but didn't pay it any special attention.

"Every door," he said, his voice husky.

"Even my room?"

"Even yours."

His eyes drooped a little but I doubted he was close to losing his senses. I couldn't hope for anything as simple as a theft from an unconscious man. I paid close attention to the ring. It had a hinge on one side and a groove on the other, holding it closed.

"You wouldn't lock me in, though, would you?" I asked him.

"Not unless you disobey me and wander the halls at night. In the end, Gina was locked in, though it pained me to do it."

My stomach lurched at the thought. I pushed it aside, least it make me lose my nerve. I leaned forward and watched his eyes go straight to my breasts. In that instant, I pinched the keyring until the groove disengaged. Keys fell to the floor in a musical tinkle, including my iron target. Adrenaline surged through me.

"Oh, Henry," I said, leaping off of his lap and kneeling on the floor in front of him. His eyes didn’t leave my chest. His expression was heated. "I've made a mess of your keys. I hope they weren't in any order."

"I'll sort through them," he said.

I scooped up the little brass door keys and strung them back on his ring, even as I hid the iron one in my palm. My hands shook; my heart raced and I tried to control my breath. I went down on hands and knees. While he watched my breasts partially bubbling out of my short corset and my low neckline, I slipped the iron key through the slit in my dress and into the dimity pocket underneath.

The iron key was so heavy, I wasn't sure how he wouldn't miss it.

"Is that all of them?" I asked innocently, kneeling between his knees. My breasts were too exposed and after my education the previous evening, I knew what I was positioned to do.

His fingers played over the ring without really looking. He licked his lips. "I believe so."

"Thank the heavens," I said, sitting back in my chair, pretending to sip from his glass and handing it to him. "I'm a clumsy girl."

"That's not the word I would use to describe you," he said.

I smiled and put a hand on his knee. "As always, you're too generous."

He put a hand over mine. "Come to my room with me."

My heart stuttered. I had been too successful at my seduction. I blinked at him as if I didn't understand. "Do you wish to show me something?"

"One might say that." He pressed my hand to his groin and I felt the solidness there.

I didn't need to feign shock.

"I like your inexperience," he said. "I would like to be your mentor."

I met his eyes and followed my intuition. I lifted my hand to his mouth and pressed my finger to his lips; he kissed the tip. "I can think of no better man to teach me. I ask only for your forbearance while I get used to my new circumstances."

"I am not a patient man, Emily."

"My father is dead. I'm under a new roof. I've never had a lover. A few nights are all I ask." I took his hand and brought it to my lips, sucking gently on the tip of his index finger. "Please, Henry," I whispered.

His breathing was ragged. His gaze was unfocused from all of the whiskey. "I suppose I can wait a few more nights," he said.

"You are too good to me."

Robert came to the door and I was glad he hadn't seen me in my uncle's lap. I glanced at him and turned back to Henry. "I'm very tired. May I return to my room?"

"You may. Remember... remain in your room tonight."

"I will," I said, not feeling guilty for the falsehood. "Not a peep until morning."

"Good evening," he said to me.

"Good night," I replied, standing, crossing the room, and laying my shaking hand on Robert's arm. I walked a little faster than he did in my eagerness to get away; he had to hurry to keep up.

#

I wanted to gather my nerves for a moment once I was back in my room, but I knew I didn't have the time to recover for long. Perhaps Henry wouldn't notice the difference in the weight of his key ring until morning but perhaps he would. I couldn't take the chance.

"I'm coming with you," Mary said.

"No. What if Henry comes to check on me? You can distract him."

"You'll not go see that angel alone."

I know she feared for my virtue but I feared failure more. In three days' time, I would be in Henry's bed, if I was unsuccessful.

"Be absolutely silent," I bade her. We stepped into the hallway together and I listened for the faint music. It was there, clearer than the night before. "Do you hear it?" I breathed.

"Yes, Like violins or the wind...."

I still heard piano music and bells but I didn't contradict Mary. It wasn't hard to imagine that angel's music might sound like whatever you like best. We crept down the hallway, following the sound as I had the night before. We were near the door where I had witnessed the two men when she touched my arm.

"Someone's coming," she whispered.

I scurried around the next corner but I heard a man's voice call. "Who's there?"

Mary gave me a push. "Keep going," she whispered.

I hurried down the dim hallway. I heard Mary say, "Robert?"

"What are you doing here? You're out of your room two nights in a row." he replied.

"I came looking for you...."

I rushed away from them, grateful when their voices faded enough that I need not hear the rest of their exchange. Before long, and without detection, I came to the dead-end where the music was sweetest. I lifted the tapestry and opened the hidden door, trotting down the passageway until I came to Allister's door.

I opened it, as I had the night before. And, like the night before, he stood waiting for me. He was as golden and becoming as I remembered him. He smiled at me and it was as if I was physically drawn to him. I didn't resist it, crossing the room quickly.

"I don't know how long we have," I said, pulling the iron key from my dress.

"Long enough," he said.

I met his eyes and warmth filled me. He brushed a curl out of my eyes, making the chains clang. I wanted him to touch me more. It was hard to keep my mind on the task at hand.

"Stay still," I told him. "Let me free you."

I opened the heavy lock at his neck first and the collar fell away. The skin there looked burnt. He stretched his neck and sighed. Then, he held out his hands so that I could open the shackles. They fell to the ground with a heavy, loud clang, as well. And, again, it was as if his wrists were scalded by the iron. Without thinking about what it would look like, I fell to my knees and worked the lock on his leg irons. When the irons were open, I looked up at him.

The first thing I noticed was that his skin seemed to be glowing. It was as if he was lit by candles from within. The second thing I noticed was his eyes on my breasts. He lifted his gaze to my face almost apologetically.

"I mean no disrespect," he said.

"I don't feel demeaned," I told him, standing. It was nothing like having Henry look at me. I imagined his touch would be nothing like Henry's as well. I took a breath, trying to control my urges. "Are you freed?"

"Nearly," he said. His look of embarrassment intensified. "There are still two more restraints."

"Where?" I asked.

He didn't answer but his eyes did flicker downward. It only took me a moment to gather what part of his anatomy he was referring to. The heat came into my cheeks.

"Show me," I told him.

He unbuttoned his breeches slowly, lowering them without taking his eyes off of my face. I, on the other hand, couldn't look anywhere but the part of him exposed. His penis was very large to my inexperienced eye. It was swollen and straining against the iron band around it. His scrotum, too, had a thinner iron band around its base, squeezing it like an overfilled bladder.

"There's no keyhole," I said. Indeed, the key was bigger than the iron bands.

"After Gina, Henry was very angry with me," he told me. "It's not locked by tumblers but by old magic. It can only be removed by a virgin's hand."

My flush grew hotter. I met his eyes and saw the need there. It made my own want swell.

"Simple enough," I said softly. "Remember your promise that you'll help me leave Aspenwald."

"I won't leave you here, Emily White."

I put my hands on him, one at the base of his penis and the other on the ring. As soon as I touched the ring, it widened. Hs moan sounded like relief. I didn't really need to do more than steady him as I pulled the cuff off but curiosity is a weakness of mine. My hand trailed behind the ring, feeling the silky skin over the solidness. The soft texture of something designed to penetrate was striking.

When the piece of metal was gone, Allister seemed to glow brighter. I laid the ring on top of his volume of Historia Calamitatum on the table and turned my attention to the second restraint.

The ring around his scrotum also widened when I touched it. I still had to manipulate him to unthread his flesh from the metal, but it was less difficult than I feared. I eased first one side, then the other, through the restraint. This time, his moan was much more than relief.

I placed the second ring next to the first on top of his books.

There was a marked change in Allister. His glow was bright enough to illuminate part of the room. He grew in stature, both in height and broadness. The burn marks from the iron healed into smooth skin. His face went from handsome to glorious.

"You're so very beautiful," I whispered.

"No," he said. "To me, your bravery is the most beautiful thing."

His voice sang in my ears. The scent of evergreen filled the musty little dungeon. He lifted my face; I knew he meant to kiss me and I wanted it more than I had the night before.

And, oh, what a kiss. It sent fire to every part of me. It seemed that my whole being pulsed. My arms went around Allister and his hands went into my hair, sending Mary's careful work tumbling around my shoulders. His lips seemed to be everywhere: on my mouth, on my cheeks, on my neck, and against my ear. And though I knew it wasn't possible, it seemed like the shadow of his lips was on my breasts and inner thighs, as well. I hardened and ached like they were.

His mouth pressed against mine harder, opening me, tasting me. He lifted me and set me on the table, sending his books tumbling. His kiss never ended; his hands pushed up my skirt and spread my thighs.

My pantalets were split at the thighs for health and ease over a chamber pot. They served a better purpose now. He knelt in front of me, spreading me open. He didn’t even have to touch my sex; he just blew on it. One long, cool breath and my body shattered into bliss. My toes curled in my shoes. I strained my hips against nothing, wanting more.

"Oh, how splendid," I gasped.

Allister gave me a mischievous look from between my legs and kissed where I pulsed. The kiss became more open-mouthed; his tongue teased me. I moaned long and low. The stone walls threw the sound back at me. His mouth did its greedy work. Before long I rose again, clutching at my own bodice, straining my legs wide.

The bliss broke over me, like a wave this time. My back arched. His relentless tongue chased me until my movement stopped.

He stood and I drew his face down to mine. I kissed him, tasting the musk. His hands still moved over me and his lips still wanted. His glow was on my cheek.

Then, suddenly, he drew back and looked up at the ceiling. "Your uncle has discovered the missing key."

"I don’t care."

He kissed me again, making the blazing want climb. He trailed kisses to my ear. "He will check on you and then on me," he whispered.

"Can he harm you?"

"Not anymore."

"Then don’t leave me wanting."

He needed no further urging. His mouth returned to mine, sending the fiery need to every part of me anew. His hands clutched at me, like I might escape. We were already exposed to one another; it was just a matter of fitting one last key in one last lock.

With his lips still on mine, he positioned and thrust. I felt myself tear; his solidness pushed past all resistance. In the absence of my mother, Mary had taken it upon herself to tell me of how things were between men and women, so I wasn't surprised at the sharpness. But Allister had so filled me with want and need that the hurt was a welcome answer to it. I could hardly bear the way that pleasure and pain knit together.

He was so careful with me: thrusting cautiously until I could take all of him, moving deliberately until the pleasure overtook the soreness. Finally, I relaxed into the sensation. I met his thrusts and they grew more solid. Then, they were jarring, sending my breasts and curls bouncing.

"It's been so long," Allister moaned, nuzzling his face in my hair.

"Such a waste," I gasped, feeling a something build deep within me. Feeling everything build within me. The pain of my father's death and the anger at my uncle's behavior and the outrage at this angel's imprisonment. Allister's wonderful rhythm promised the most satisfying relief to all of it. I worked my hips to catch it.

In moments, my whole body clamped down. It was as if I was filled with his light. I cried out his name; Allister cried out for me as well. It was like bells in crisp winter air.

Suddenly, the dungeon door flew open.

My uncle stood in the frame, looking at my disheveled state, the scatter books, the freed angel, and how we were connected. He looked horrified and incensed. Allister softened a little within me.

The only sound Henry managed was a reproachful, "Emily!"

Perhaps Henry could do nothing to Allister but frighten him, but he did that one thing well enough. That much was certain from Alllister's physical reaction. Henry didn't frighten me, though. Not any longer; I was leaving his house with my angel.

"Uncle," I said, still breathless. "I have found another mentor to teach me. A better one, I think. And while I thank you for your hospitality, I will no longer need to intrude upon your solitude. Mary and I will take our leave this night, after Allister and I have finished our business."

I turned my attention back to the angel and put a hand on his cheek. "Once again?" I asked. His size and hardness resumed, stretching me. I turned back to Henry. "Please close the door as you leave," I said.

I don't know if he did or not. I know only that Allister took me again and the second time was even more brilliant than the first.

#

My uncle lived less than a year after I left Aspenwald. They said it was a ground tremor that brought down that stone mansion. One rumor even said that it was a powerful rogue storm. What seemed certain was that it was an act of God.

By then, I was well established in Sarah's house. She was a lady twenty years my senior who lived alone in a house big enough for ten. Apparently she had been with Allister since she was a young woman and loved him dearly. She was pleased to take us in and happier still to see the angel.

"It's been a lifetime," she told him, smiling. "You must never leave me like that again."

"It was never my choice." He kissed her but I felt no jealousy. There was only arousal and joy around the angel. "I will never be away so long again."

"See to it that you aren't," she replied, taking one of his hands and one of mine, drawing us both into the house. "Now you have two ladies who adore you, waiting for you here. You must call on us often."

"How can I resist?"

He didn't even try. He visited constantly, sometimes for the physical pleasure and sometimes for the company. It didn't matter what he needed, Sarah and I were always pleased to see him. And when he wasn't with us, Sarah and I pleased each other. But that is another story.