Page 54 of Freeing Hook

An aggravated huff sounds behind me, but I keep my eyes trained on the bustle of the docks below as we round the curve.

“I wasn’t thinking,” he says. “About how it might feel for you to be touched like that.”

I can’t help myself; I shift around toward the captain, though the sight of him sends pangs through my chest. “I assure you, grabbing my wrist isn’t what those men had in mind when they touched me.”

The captain’s eyes are trained on my wrist, but he won’t find my bruise. It’s long healed. Besides, it’s not like that fae eyesight of his can see through my satin gloves.

“But that is why you freeze up when you’re in danger. Your mother taught you that if you screamed, no one would come. She taught you not to fight back.”

I bite my lip. “Please stop.”

But the captain’s not done. “She made you train your body not to respond when it was in danger.”

“I’ve fought back before,” I protest, thinking of struggling with Tink in the ocean as she tried to shove my head below the water. But he’s right; I’ve only ever truly fought back against a woman. I suppose I’d attacked the henchman in the alley as he rounded the corner, but that was different. I’d launched myself at him first. Once he’d gotten his hands on me, I’d given up. “Fine. I seem to be paralyzed by a man’s touch,” I say, then shooting daggers with my eyes at the captain, add, “Are you satisfied to hear me admit it?”

“Not at all,” he says, but he remains silent the rest of the ride.

By the timethe driver brings the carriage to a halt outside the Carlisle manor, even he can sense the tension in the carriage.

“Oh, how my wife and I love a little lovers’ spat,” he chuckles as he ushers us onto the pebbled drive. “Nothing beats the lovemaking afterward, I assure you.” He winks at the captain. “But I’m sure you already know that. Probably why you picked the fight with her to begin with, isn’t it?”

I don’t check Astor for his reaction. Instead, I retreat, allowing the world around me to go quiet as I examine the manor stretching out before me. Beautiful doesn’t seem a fair word to describe it. Massive panels of glass reflect the midday sun, making up the majority of the structure, the windows towering above us like watchmen protecting the sprawling land that cascades down the mountain. Bordering the glass are sections of ebony brick that stretch to the heavens in spiraling turrets that meld into the side of the mountain itself.

I can almost feel the brick underneath my black satin gloves, scraping against my fingertips. The rush that would spike inside my blood if I were ever to reach the top of one of those towers.

“Welcome to the Carlisle Manor,” says the driver, sounding pleased with himself, as if he were the architect of such a masterpiece.

“Strange,” I say, taking the captain’s arm as a footman meets us and leads us toward the ornate doors. I ignore the way the captain flinches under my initiated touch. “You’d think that people who deal in secrets wouldn’t have built a house with so many windows.”

“But isn’t that exactly what they’re selling?” asks the captain. “The luxury of peeking in where you’re not supposed to?”

I nod in concession, but something about the house bothers me. “Except that it’s just an illusion. You can’t see into the house, not really. Not with the way the sun reflects on the windows.”

“You can’t see in during the daytime,” the captain corrects.

The insideof Carlisle Manor is just as breathtaking as its exterior. Crystal chandeliers reflect scattered lights all about the halls. Wooden paneling and battens painted a deep teal line the walls, giving the place a soothing aura, which I immediately mistrust. Displayed in ornate silver frames are paintings of famous heists, all contributing to the manor’s air of intrigue.

“Is your interest piqued, Darling?” the captain whispers, though I can’t help but notice the way he doesn’t press his lips to my ear like he once did.

When I turn to look at him, he flicks his head ever so slightly toward the parlor we’re being led into. I catch a glimpse of blonde hair inside, so I flash the captain my prettiest smile, one that comes too easily due to my years of practice. When I speak, I sound like a girl who marvels at the world instead of fearing it. “I feel as if I’m being let in on a secret, don’t you?”

Astor blinks and clears his throat, stiffening under my touch. Or maybe it’s the feigned delight in my voice that has him cringing.

“Ah! Lord Rivers,” says a thin man with porcelain skin, blond hair, and wire-rimmed glasses. “What a pleasure it is to be graced with your acquaintance. And your wife,” he says, flashing a pretty set of teeth at me. “Well, aren’t you just a prize?”

He takes my hand and kisses my knuckles. I silently thank Astor for thinking to supply me with the satin gloves.

Lord Carlisle’s wife soon follows him, though if I hadn’t memorized Astor’s notes on these two, I would have assumed she was his sister. Her fair complexion and general roundness of face are similar enough to his to be eerie. She looks to be about my age, so much so it takes me a moment to remember that she’s seventeen years my senior.

“Why, Lady Rivers, I just know we’re to be the best of friends,” she says, an expression I’ve always found off-putting since it is almost always spoken upon a first meeting based onnothing other than appearance and preconceived notions. Or, in Lady Carlisle’s case, wanting something from me. Thankfully, my mother gave me her smile, and I wear it dutifully.

“Congratulations on your union,” says Lord Carlisle. “From what I understand about the customs of Delphi, it seems the two of you must be residing in the heavens at the moment.”

“Isn’t it so romantic, Arthur?” says Lady Carlisle, clapping her hands together. “Say, we should take a year, just the two of us, to never be apart.”

Arthur Carlisle winks at his wife. “But then how would we divide the duties of our business to make it flourish?”

The mention of money must be an aphrodisiac for Lady Carlisle, because she bites her lip and blushes a deep scarlet.

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