Page 47 of Suspicion

“Gamier, you mean?” He’d always enjoyed the taste of rabbit, but then living in his current environment meant he did eat a lot of them.

“Gamier?”

“Yes.” He dabbed up a few pastry crumbs on his fingertip. He made a mean pastry even if he did say so himself. “Rabbit’s generally considered to be gamey.”

“Rabbit?” Her jaw fell open, inviting the possibility of how Tucker might fill her mouth. “Oh God.” Her hands flew to her lips, obstructing his view. “Is that what we’re eating?”

“Yes.” Not for the first time since he’d met Ella, her expression was invaluable. Shock mingled with abhorrence, the color draining from her cheeks as she rose to her feet.

“Where are you going, little girl?” He would absolutely never bore of calling her that, his balls contracting as he absorbed the sight of her. Even in her ugly sweater and joggers, Ella was lovely. Plus, Tucker had the advantage of knowing precisely what she was hiding under her clothes.

“I can’t believe it.” She shook as she searched the corners of the room with her frantic gaze.

“It’s fine,” he assured her. “Wild rabbit is lean and a great source of protein. There’s an abundance of them in the forest.”

“I’m going to be sick.” Heaving in air, she folded before him and fell to her knees.

“You’ll be fine,” he reiterated, although looking at her, he was starting to wonder if it was true. Ella looked shakier than when he’d spanked her in the forest, and that was saying something.

“It’s not fine.” She heaved again, her hair falling around her face as she crawled awkwardly toward the door. Her bound wrists meant smooth movement was impossible. “I kept rabbits as a child. I can’t believe I’ve eaten one. I feel ill.”

“The rabbit had a good life.” He rose to his full height and watched her clumsy progress. “And its death was quick and painless. It would have been happy to give its life for you.”

“Happy?” She shook her head, clawing at the floorboards as she forced her weary body on. She’d nearly reached the door when her gasped mewl filled the air again. “I need air.”

“Ask me nicely.” He strode around her, unlocking the door and releasing the bolt as she reached her destination and slammed her trussed hands against the wood.

“I’m going to be sick, sir.” Her face was ashen as she glared in his direction. “Let me out.”

Tucker didn’t much like the tone of her voice, but her pale, sallow skin left him in little doubt. Ella really was going to vomit, and unless he wanted the contents of her stomach spewed over his floor, he’d better open the door and help her.

“Hang on.” Pushing the door open, he flooded the room with cool air. “Let me help.” Hoisting her into the air, he carried her across the decking and toward the roots of a giant tree.

“Here.” He placed her on the grass, holding back her hair as she panted on her knees. “Do what you need to do.”

Chapter Nine

Run, Rabbit, Run.

Ella

Had she ever felt worse than this? Clutching her belly, she moaned at the dull ache lingering there. She might have regurgitated what little food she’d eaten, leaving her stomach vacant and desperate, but the ghost of the poor rabbit still haunted her.

“Oh God.” She wanted to cry at the mere thought of the bunny’s fate.

She’d eaten rabbit and even considered going back for more. Rabbit—the word ricocheted in her head—like the cute bunnies she’d kept as a small girl. How could she ever look herself in the mirror again?

“How are you, little girl?” Tucker towered over her, although she dared not look up to acknowledge him. Dramatic movement might inspire another round of illness.

“Awful.” She cowered by the trunk of a tree, refusing to open her eyes. Her head pounded, the hours of dehydration coupled with her recent infirmity making it difficult to think.

Things were getting worse.

However terrible she’d felt in the barn—and there was little doubt that she had—it was nothing compared to the insidious sense of doom surrounding her now. This was her so-called life—trapped with Tucker in a tiny cabin in the forest, bound and forced to eat small, fluffy animals.

I can’t live like this.

I won’t survive.

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