Page 2 of The Hermit

He claws at the white chiffon, ripping the fabric from my body.

I suppress the memory and feeling overly protective of my sister, I mutter, “Not soon, if I have my way.” My tone is much harsher than I meant for it to be, and I quickly clear my throat.

Mrs. Beamish’s eyebrow pops up, and she gives me a surprised look. “I’m sure your father feels differently about the matter. The longer he waits to arrange a marriage for your sister, the harder it will be to find her a good husband, and of course, there’s the matter of having children. The sooner, the better.”

Before I can stop myself the words burst over my lips. “I hate that our worth is measured by whether we’re married and mothers. Women are so much more than just those two things.” I make sure to lock eyes with the older woman as I add, “My sister will not be forced to do anything she doesn’t want to do.”

Mrs. Beamish’s gaze narrows on me, and she raises her chin. “You know that’s not how things work in our world, dear.”

My temper flares more, and I feel a trembling start in my hands.

“I don’t care about how things work in our world. I only care about Ciara’s happiness.” I blindly take hold of my sister’s wrist and mutter, “Excuse us.”

Dragging her to the other side of the lawn, I let out a disgruntled huff before we come to a standstill near lush green shrubs that line the perimeter wall of the property.

Placing her hand on my bicep, Ciara gives me a comforting squeeze as she says, “Don’t let her get to you.”

“Easier said than done,” I grumble while shooting a glare in Mrs. Beamish's direction. She’s already talking to another group of women, and when some of them glance in our direction, it’s clear she’s gossiping about us.

I don’t care what anyone thinks. I won’t allow Ciara to suffer the same as I did at the hands of my so-called husband.

When I was forced to marry Braden Mallon, my life took a drastic turn for the worse. I agreed to marry Braden so Ciara would never have to enter an arranged marriage.

Lucky for me, Braden was assassinated a year ago. Dad allowed me to change my last name back to Devlin, and since then, I’ve done my best to forget the two years I had to endure as that monster’s wife.

I wish I knew who killed him so I could send the person a thank you card.

“Stop thinking about that bastard,” Ciara says under her breath.

My gray eyes flick to her blue ones, and she gives me a pointed look. “You have that weird expression on your face again.”

I force a smile to my lips before glancing at the other guests.

I never told anyone about what happened during the two years I was married. Sometimes, I think Dad knew what Braden was doing to me, and he had the monster killed. I can’t bring myself to ask him, and he never broaches the subject. It’s as if we’ve silently agreed to never talk about it.

Even though it’s been a year, I still have nightmares. My panic attacks are silent, locking me in a daze where the memories torture me until I’m finally able to break free from them.

But it’s getting better, and I’m determined to forget the monster ever existed.

“Cupcake?” Ciara asks, her gaze scouring the dessert table.

“They’re pink,” I whisper.

Braden made me wear pink every day. He loved the color on me.

“I can wipe the icing off for you,” my sister offers.

Giving her a grateful smile, I shake my head. “No thanks.”

As the server walks toward us with the two glasses of wine Ciara ordered, an aggressive shout thunders over the backyard. “Everybody get down!”

My eyes fly toward a group of men pouring from the sliding doors and rushing around the sides of the house. One of the men drags a guard’s bloody body onto the patio, where he drops it.

Icy shock vibrates through me as it registers that we’re being attacked.

“Jesus,” I breathe, and not hesitating, I shove Ciara into the shrubs next to us.

“Grace,” she shrieks before she disappears into the greenery. I hear her hit the ground with a dull thud, the leaves rustling.

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