Page 18 of His Unexpected Heir

Macie’s features brightened and she looked over at Astra. “I think this is where I head out and let you two talk.” And with that, she picked up her still-full bowl of soup and carried it out of the dining room. Antonio noticed that she didn’t head into the kitchen. He understood. No one would want to share a meal with Eldora. The older woman was dour enough to curdle milk with her angry glares and irritated expressions.

Giving up on the barely edible soup, he set the spoon on the edge of his bowl and turned to Astra, lifting an eyebrow in inquiry.

Astra shifted in her uncomfortably hard chair. “I woke up in a beautiful room earlier today.”

“That was my mother’s room,” he snapped impatiently, leaning back in his chair.

Astra noticed that he glanced down at her bowl of barely touched soup, obviously implying that she should concentrate her efforts on finishing it instead of speaking.

She couldn’t do it. The soup was so bland, it was hard to swallow. Astra hadn’t realized how hard it was to eat something that wasn’t palatable. The soup wasn’t bad, it was just…blah.

“It’s lovely,” she replied, then shifted uncomfortably again. “Why was so much attention put towards comfort for that room, but there aren’t cushions on the dining room chairs?”

He waited until Eldora took the soup course away before answering.

“My father thought that it was good training to sit on the hard wood for several hours. He explained to everyone that came for dinner that children need discipline.” He gestured towards the other chairs in the room. “Some of the chairs are padded.” He paused and waited until Eldora set down the two plates with chicken and white rice in front of him and Astra before he continued. “Macie lucked out and sat in a padded chair. That chair,” he said, pointing his chin towards Astra, “is where I was required to sit each night.”

She shifted again. “That sounds miserable. How long were dinners when you were growing up?”

“Not terribly long,” he replied, cutting into the boiled chicken. He reached out and added some salt and pepper, then grimaced at the crumbling, overcooked chicken.

“That’s a relief.”

“Although, often my father would demand that I remain at the table for an hour or two after the meal was finished.”

Astra stared at him, stunned at the abuse. “He…made you sit in this chair? To what end?”

Antonio shrugged and cut another bite of chicken, then stared at it on the end of his fork. “He said it would build character.”

In the end, he dropped his utensils on to the plate with a clatter and sighed. “I have no idea what is wrong with Eldora’s cooking tonight, but this is awful.” He stood up and looked at Astra. “Let’s go.”

She stood as well, relieved to get away from the miserable chair. “Where are we going?” she asked, hurrying to walk beside him.

“To the pub. We’re going to get something better to eat than overcooked chicken and flavorless soup.”

Astra walked alongside him until they reached a stone stairway. Then she fell behind him as they wound their way down the stairs to…a garage!

“What did this part of the castle used to be?”

He chuckled. “You don’t think my ancestors needed a five car garage before heading out for the crusades?”

She smiled as she slipped into the passenger seat of a powerful sports car. “I doubt it.”

He closed the door, then walked to the other side, slipping into the driver’s seat. He pressed a button and the car purred to life. “This used to be the armory. My grandfather excavated one of the walls and ripped out the stone, adding support beams so we could store vehicles.” He drove out into the dim light of the setting sun and sped down the long drive towards the village.

“What other ways did your father employ to instill character in you?”

He shrugged as he concentrated on the curves in the narrow street. “He was very…creative.”

Astra looked at him, trying to read his expression. But his face was blank. “Tell me,” she whispered and dared to put a hand on his forearm.

Antonio glanced at her, then concentrated on the road. “I was denied dinner on occasion.”

“And?” she prompted, sensing that there was more.

There was a long moment of silence, then he added reluctantly, “He might have locked me in the castle’s dungeon every once in a while.”

Astra stared at the man who had said something so horrific with such a bland tone.

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