"I honestly didn't recognize you," Vranphile said, putting on his best apologetic face for his flabbergasted younger half-sister. "I saw you in the courtyard as I approached and I thought to myself, 'who in the world is that breathtakingly gorgeous new maid'?"
          Michelle, of course, had the mind to look insulted. Eleven years of home schooling had taught her the difference between a front and back-handed compliment, at the very least. It didn't help that the nobleman pulled her hair from behind to get her attention. "Nice seeing you again, wench."
          That forced ladylike facade broke, just once, to Vranphile's utter delight. "How dare you!" she snapped, pulling her dark hair from his amused fingertips. "I don't know why I even bother sometimes, really I don't."
          "Because as the new head of this estate, you owe it to me," Vranphile reminded, helpfully. Addressing Michelle's bewildered expression, he continued, "You are aware of the change of ownership, are you not? Since Father's death?"
         "So that's why you've returned," Michelle said and shook her head, turning away from him. "To claim your... property."
         "No," Vranphile said, catching her lightly by the wrist. She turned and looked up in disdain. "I've also come to mingle with the family, and sort out Father's affairs... my, have we grown." He made no attempt to hide his leering gaze, visually devouring her blossoming womanly curves.
         Michelle shook her head in disgust.

---

         Michelle lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling with a slightly muddled expression. Her hair was taken down from its usual intricate French braid, splayed carelessly around her alabaster shoulders. "Why didn't you tell me you were selling the estate?" she inquired, mostly to the white-wash walls then anyone specifically in the room.
         "You've been through a lot lately," she could almost hear his shrug. "I did not want to put any unnecessary duress on you until you've had at least a full day of rest."
         Michelle scoffed. "Hardly what I would call 'rest'."
         "More restful then the past few weeks," he objected.
         She blinked, and then her mouth became a tight, unhappy little line. It seemed to signify her agreement.
         "Regardless," came his voice, dismissively. "How are you feeling?"
         "Tired," she admitted, shifting slightly to find a more comfortable position.
         "Is that it?" he asked. "Anything else? Headache? Cramps? Nausea...” he droned on.
         "I am feeling a bit dizzy," she admitted after a moment of thought. "And some of my muscles ache..."
         "That's to be expected," came his voice, now beside her. "Don't worry. It'll be at least a few more weeks until your next injection."
         "I'm looking forward to it." His lips gently brushed her forehead in a brotherly kiss before pulling back. He sat along the edge of the bed and pulled his slacks on, then shrugged into his overcoat. Standing, he turned to admire the creamy skin of her exposed, deliciously curved hips and supple breasts, completely unobstructed from his view.
         "You look lovely."
         Michelle was unfazed. "You say that every time."
         "You should really get some sleep," Vranphile advised, walking around the bed to retrieve his shoes. Stepping into them, he walked past her towards the door.
         "Sleep never seems to find me."
         "Try anyways." He paused at the doorway, looking back at her. For a minute, no one spoke. And then, uncomfortable, Vranphile pulled his gloves from his pockets and tugged them on. "I will be gone for a few days, but the servants will tend to you. Do try to get some rest." He turned and left.