by Jane Henry
“I am now,” she said. “Though I have to admit, I slept like a baby.” A pause, then, “Thank you.”
I turned to face her. She looked younger, somehow, laying in the bed adorned in my t-shirt, her large brown eyes blinking up at me.
“For what?” I pushed to my feet, but my whole body ached after sleeping. I must have winced, because she noticed.
“Are you in pain?” she asked.
I grunted, and sat back down on the bed.
“You could call someone to fetch medicine for you,” she began. “Or ask them to get a doctor.”
“I’m all set,” I grumbled, but she pressed on, pushing herself so she was sitting.
“No, you’re not,” she contradicted. “Looks to me like you’re pretty far from all set. For goodness sakes, you don’t have to get all macho about it.” She frowned, crossing her arms over her chest. “You stopped a bunch of men from attacking me, took a knife wound, and you think you have to pretend it doesn’t hurt?”
I glowered at her. God, my palm itched to smack her sweet little ass.
“Excuse me,” I said. “That’s enough of a lecture from you, young lady.” I gave her my sternest glare which only made her eyes widen and pull the blankets up closer to her chin. “I do not plan on exactly running a marathon today, if it makes you feel any better.” I blew out a harsh breath. “I will take the day off and take care of what needs to be done. And from my perspective, that means taking care of me and you.”
“I’m capable of taking care of myself, thank you,” she sassed.
My fingers curled into a fist as I sought to control my temper. The nerve of this woman!
“I didn’t say you couldn’t,” I said, my teeth clenched tightly together.
Her little lip went out in a pout, and I softened a bit.
I leaned in and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “You are adorable.” Her eyes warmed at that and she lifted her chin, her lips so full I couldn’t help what I did next. I leaned in and kissed her again, nothing like the punishing, bruising, heated kiss of before but gentler, softer, my lips meeting hers like a secret lover’s tryst. My cock hardened as her moan slipped down my throat, her hands coming up to my shoulders, her dainty fingers grasping me as if she needed to hold on tight. I pulled her to me, needing to rein myself in for if I held her as firmly as I wanted to, I’d hurt her. Everything I’d held back galloped through my veins, everything I wanted urged me on, and her fingers snaked around my wrist, gripping tightly as I deepened the kiss. Her mouth parted and my tongue slipped inside. Her chest rose with a gasp as I moved one hand from her hip to her lower back and pulled her even closer to me. We were drowning, submerged in a wave of unbridled passion, when a knock sounded at the door. Like guilty teens caught making out in a parked car, we pulled away.
“Come in,” I mumbled, my voice husky and uncontrolled. I shifted my cock in my pants, and she pulled the blanket up nearly over her head.
The door creaked open and Millie entered the room, looking as bright-eyed as if she’d had a full night’s sleep. She carried a silver tray with a cup of coffee and a platter of food, and bustled in, still oblivious to Annabelle in my bed. “Thought you might not be up for coming down for breakfast,” she said, sliding the platter on the table next to me. “You had quite a night. I did try to go to our guest’s room, though, and found — oh!” The tray rattled as she jumped back, her eyes widening when she caught sight of Annabelle.
“Pardon me,” Millie flustered, her cheeks turning pink, and Annabelle began to defend herself.
“It’s not what you think!” she said, as Millie muttered something about it not being her business and grown people could do what they wanted, but it did nothing to staunch Annabelle, who went on and on about staying because it was dark and I was injured and she was afraid. Finally I could not take their jabbering a single moment longer.
I fixed my face in what I hoped was a pleasant look, but gazed at them both sternly. “Millie, thank you for breakfast. Please come back with more coffee, and food for Annabelle.”
“Looks like there’s plenty there,” Annabelle said, peeking over the top of the blanket, no doubt wishing Millie would not turn back.
I eyed the platter of eggs, toast and bacon, and shook my head. “Not enough,” I said, “And I could drink a pot of coffee myself.”
Millie nodded her head and walked to the door. “Yes, sir, right away, sir,” she said. “It’ll be fine, really, nothing to worry about. I must say, sir, it is nice to see you up and about as usual.” Her eyes widened and she looked to the bed, then she fled the room. When the door clasped shut I shook my head, poured a cup of coffee, added some cream, and offered her the mug.
“Coffee?”
“Coffee?” Annabelle said, her pretty brown eyes flashing at me as she sat up in bed. “That was the most mortifying experience of my life and you offer me coffee?”
I raised a brow at her and sat on the edge of the bed, taking a sip of the strong, dark brew myself. “Excuse me,” I said, as calmly as I could. She really did undo me. “But coffee is the perfect anecdote after a rough night and surprising morning. Sets the nerves at ease, you know. I highly recommend it.”
She merely frowned at me.
“For God’s sake, Annabelle, will you relax? What’s she going to do? Tell the press she found you in my bed? You think I care?” I took another sip of coffee. “But you know what, keep going on about it and I will.”
She frowned but her pupils dilated as she looked away. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m okay. I’m in a good deal of pain, but it should subside. I can easily walk and talk, clearly, it’s just going to take some time for me to heal.”
“You should not be lifting heavy things or walking for the next few days, if you can avoid it,” she said, furrowing her brow in concentration. It was adorable.
“Not planning on going very far.”
“You should not exert yourself too much either.”
I took a sip of the mug, meeting her eyes as I thought about my reply. Under my gaze, she wilted, shifting on her sheet and looking wildly about the room before resting on me one more time.
“I think you may have forgotten something,” I said nonchalantly, sipping my coffee thoughtfully as she frowned at me. “I’m the one who gives orders around here. Not you.”
“Oh?”
“Yes,” I reminded her. “So why don’t you let me worry about what’s going on here, and you worry about doing what you’re told?”
She pursed her lips, but a knock came at the door again before she could respond. “Come in,” I commanded. Millie pushed the door open and handed me the tray with more coffee and food, bowing her head without a word and taking her leave. “Thank you,” I said, as the door closed behind her and she beat a hasty retreat.
“Now, you be a good girl. We’ll be lazy today, and eat our breakfast in bed. In a bit, you can go down the hall and fetch your clothes.”
She sat up in bed and I rearranged the tray, taking a plate of bacon and eggs and fruit and handing it to her. She took it with a grateful nod, folding her hands on the tray and waiting for me. I slid the tray onto my lap as I sat next to her, and gave her a nod to encourage her to dig in.
She took a tentative bite of eggs, and I began eating in earnest, quickly polishing off the scrambled eggs, three pieces of toast, all my bacon, and two cups of coffee.
“God, I don’t know how you can eat like that,” she mumbled, her eyes awestruck and wide as she finished her second half of toast.
“Like what?” I said, genuinely curious, sipping my coffee and feeling much better now that I’d eaten.
“You’ve eaten three times what I have!” she said, thoughtfully nibbling her toast.
I shrugged. “Maybe so,” I replied. “But I’m three times the size of you.”
She snorted. “Three times? I’m not sure what girl you’re looking at, but no way you’re three times my size.”
She was a perfect curvy parago
n of beauty, and I grew tired of listening to her carry on as if she wasn’t.
“That’s enough,” I warned, feeling my temper rise, hearing the curt tone of my voice but not feeling sorry. “No self-deprecation.”
Her brows furrowed, she put her toast down on her plate and pushed it away. “I’m done, thank you.”
She’d eaten one slice of toast and nothing more.
I picked up the small cut glass dish of fruit, and forked a strawberry, but before I ate it I reached over to her and held it in front of her mouth. “Open.”
Frowning, she opened her mouth but barely.
I growled.
With a roll of her eyes she opened even wider and I placed the strawberry between her lips. “Good girl,” I said with a nod. “I don’t know what’s gotten into your head, Annabelle, but I will not allow you to belittle yourself, not on my watch. Do you understand me?”
She started at me before responding, but finally she did. “Yeah,” she said.
I skewered a large, plump blueberry and held it out to her. “Try again,” I prompted.
She flushed. “Yes, Daddy.”
“Good girl.” I slipped the fruit between her parted lips, and she sucked it in, her eyes never meeting mine. I read challenge in her eyes, but more, desire barely hidden within the deep brown pools. “That’s a very good girl.” I wanted to take her over my lap and make her squirm under my touch, painting her defiant little ass red with my hand before melting it all away, making her arch her back and scream with pleasure. I blinked. What was I doing with her in my room? This wasn’t going to go anywhere. This wasn’t going to be good. I pushed myself to sitting on the bed and swung my legs over the side.
“Finish your breakfast,” I said, “And then it’s time for you to go.”
From the corner of my eye, I watched as she froze, a fork halfway to her mouth. “Mister Gryffin?” she asked. Her voice trembled a little, and it made me want to kick myself.
“Yes?”
“What do you mean go? Do you mean leave your house?” she asked, as she took another strawberry and placed it fully in her mouth.
I shook my head with a weary sigh. “No, Annabelle. Seems to me last time I told you to go you took it literally too, no?” I smiled at her. She was so cute, sitting on my bed cross-legged, eating her breakfast. Her fork dropped to her lap as she shrugged.
“I guess,” she said.
I sat back on the bed and pulled some pillows behind my back. My body ached, the place where I’d been cut throbbing with pain. I rubbed a hand across my face. “I don’t want you to leave,” I said. “Nor did I ever. You’re welcome to stay to fulfill your end of the contract, and you’re also welcome to go when it’s up.” I found my anger spiking. “And I do want it clear that you’re not leaving these premises unless I explicitly give you leave. Do you understand me?”
She nodded, her cheeks flushing slightly. She took a sip of her coffee mug and moaned. “Oh, that’s delicious,” she said.
I nodded, taking a sip myself. She was right. It was delicious. “Yeah, Millie imports that from some coffee place in Italy.”
She merely nodded. “You seem fascinated with things from other places,” she murmured, one delicate finger tracing the edge of the mug. “Coffee from France, chocolate from Switzerland, Italian imported cheeses and olives.” She faltered, as if suddenly remembering she didn’t want to carry on with anything but pushing through to finish anyway. “Why?”
I shrugged. “It gets a little boring being here all the time,” I answered. “Instead, I focus on my work and have things brought to me from all over the world. I mostly make myself stay here, though I do travel to my home in Paris.” I paused. I needed to find out what she knew. “Did you read the articles in the west wing?”
“Yeah,” she admitted guiltily. “I saw a…little bit.”
I let her words hang in the air for a moment, while I ate my breakfast. I chewed thoughtfully, sure that I had her attention. “What did you see?” I asked, sipping my coffee as if we weren’t sitting in my room, barely clothed, discussing the death of the woman I’d once loved. My pulse raced. I didn’t want to have this conversation.
“I…I saw that you had a fiancée once,” she said. I nearly laughed at her timidity but kept my face calm, even as my anger rose without my consent. Her gaze was fixed on her plate, and she dropped her fork.
“I did,” I replied. “And what did you find out about her?” I ignored the familiar closing of my throat, the breath catching in my chest as I discussed what I’d buried for so long.
She didn’t answer. “Annabelle, you went into that room after I expressly asked you not to. You decided you were going to snoop around. Now, own it.”
Her eyes met mine. She swallowed, both hands by her side, but she did not look away.
“Well…the papers say that she fell.” Her voice was barely above a whisper, her eyes filling with tears.
A chill crept along my spine. At her words, the scream echoed in my mind, the terrified, unstoppable scream of Samantha calling for me to help her as she plummeted to her death.
“Go on,” I said, my voice strangled. I gulped a big sip from my orange juice glass, but still I could not speak. Why was I making her say this? Why did I need to hear it from her?
“I…I’m not sure what else happened,” she faltered. “It was hard to understand with all the…other things in the way.”
“You mean the letters?” I asked. “The condemnation from the very people who could’ve supported me?”
I willed myself to continue. “If the truth is what you want, then you’ll have it,” I began, doing my best to remain aloof, detached. I had no idea why I needed to have this conversation with her, why I needed to know that she understood my ridiculous fears about her safety...why she needed to know I was innocent. “She jumped,” I said. “I was with her at the time, and I tried to save her. I tried to hold onto her, but she pushed me away. She always was a stubborn one. I didn’t know what she was going to do. And yes, after she did, I went searching for her. I tried to save her, but it was too late.” I finished my food and pushed the plate to the table beside me. “But that’s in the past now. I just needed to know what you knew. I didn’t want you forming opinions about things you know nothing about.”
She nodded, slowly. “I understand.” Her eyes did not leave mine. “And then after her death, the locals condemned you, though the courts did not,” she said, putting the pieces together. “They didn’t believe it was an accident, did they?”
My hands shook but clenching them into fists helped. “No.”
“They blamed you,” she whispered, her eyes widening.
I took a final gulp of coffee, slammed it on the tray harder than was really necessary, and pushed it to the side.
“Yeah,” I said. “They did. Hell, they still do.”
Her expression grew sympathetic, softer, as she reached her hand to mine. “Why don’t you leave?” she asked, her voice urgent. “Go someplace else. Make a new name for yourself where you are not forced to hold a past you aren’t responsible for?”
I appreciated the wisdom in what she was saying, but needed her to know it wasn’t that simple. Outside my window was the burying ground for the woman I had loved. I could not simply leave her. It was where she met her death, and as punishment for failing to save her, I needed the reminder of that every single day.
“No,” I said, not wanting to give her any more explanation that that. I could have stayed forever in my home in Paris, but I had to pay penance for what I’d done.
“But you—”
“No.” Firmer now, insistent, and she finally heeded me.
“Ok, so I get it,” she said. “And I…I’m sorry I went into the room you asked me not to.”
I nodded once. She would be.
“Are you done eating?” I asked, eyeing her plate. It looked like she’d had enough to eat.
“Yes, Mister Gryffin.”
I pushed the trays to the table, and h
it the button on my bedside table that led to the intercom system.
“Yes?” Millie asked.
“We’re done now,” was all I said. Annabelle and I sat in silence until a knock came on the door. Millie pushed it open at my welcome. She scurried in and carried the platter away, then shut the door behind her as Annabelle and I did not speak to one another.
“That’s all you need to know for now,” I said. “Samantha died. I was blamed. And though the courts acquitted me and the townspeople did not, I choose to live here because I am responsible. She needed more from me. More time and attention. I threw myself into my work and never gave her what she needed. She was mired in depression and I never knew it, never understood what plagued her. But that is neither here nor there. I don’t care anymore that they all hate me, but if I’m to progress in my career, I’m told it is best for me to soften my reputation.” I shrugged. “So, wife, you’re it.”
I forced what I hope was a friendly smile, but she did not respond at first.
“I’m sorry that happened to you,” she said finally. Somehow, her quiet offering of condolences helped. Something in me lifted and it was just that much lighter for a time. I nodded, my throat tight.
“Thank you.”
She got to her feet. “Now I should go get dressed. I’m no longer afraid of more awful men coming back, now that it’s daylight. Why were they here?”
“I suspect they heard of your being here from the press, and thought it would be good sport to stage a robbery of sorts. They don’t like to leave me be here. I suppose it’s a form of entertainment. Occasionally the locals like to come here to snoop. We’re also pretty secluded up here, and someone trying to hide from the authorities could easily hide”
She shook her head. “Well, I’m glad they’re gone. Do you need anything before I go?”
“Not now.”
“Are you going to rest up today?” she asked, her voice sharper than I expected, catching my attention.
“Excuse me?”
“Stay in bed,” she said. “You have no doctor, but wounds like that will take time to heal and it would be stupid of you to get up and leave. Got it?”