Page 59 of Greed: The Savage
“Have a seat,” he directed, heading for the tray.
Bewildered, Addien stared at his tall, broad soldier’s figure as he marched past. Malric stopped beside the bed at the nightstand, where the little servant had rested the provisions.
“Wat da ye think yer doin’?” she blurted.
“Tending you?” he said, his lips slightly twisted with annoyance, as though he were agitated by the fact that his intentions here hadn’t been already figured out by Addien.
“Tending me?” Addien laughed despite the pain it wrought on her slightly smarting head from where she’d taken a hit.
It was only after several prolonged seconds of her amusement and his silence that she registered his sincerity and whistled.
“You’re bloody serious.”
“I’ve never been more serious in my life. Sit,” he commanded.
Strangely, she didn’t rebel. Strangely, his quiet order drew her like a snake she’d once seen, teased from a basket by the sound of a flute while a naked girl danced behind it during one show at the Devil’s Den.
Still, Addien reached the side of the bed but couldn’t immediately bring herself to sit.
A wry smile tipped his lips in the corner, in what was another of the first real smiles she’d ever seen from this man.
“You have a real problem with allowing people to help you.”
Her back went ramrod straight. “I don’t need anyone taking care of me.”
“There’s a difference between being taken care of and letting yourself accept and welcome help.” Malric grunted. “Now sit.”
And this time Addien complied.
Chapter 15
Women were meant to be taken care of. Womenneededto be taken care of. That law had been written into the marrow of England centuries ago, and as the eldest son and future duke, Thornwick had learned it bloody young.
It began with his mother.
He could still remember the day. It’d been on his birthday, no less. He’d been just five years old. The morn began as it always did with the old duke browbeating the shrinking duchess for “coddling the boy like a lass,” then stalking out, no doubt to tumble one of the many whores whom he’d gotten a case of the clap from.
While the frail duchess wept copious tears, Thornwick climbed upon her lap, and did what he always did; he brushed away her tears.
That moment had stood out as different. Thosetearshad been different. Her weeping had been ugly, raw, and wet against his cheek.
The violent force of her sobs, too violent for Thornwick’s hug to heal, broke the duchess. No,Calderayshattered her, the same as if she’d been a marble bust he’d hammered too hard.
From then on,Thornwickbecame the one to care forher. It’d come so naturally, looking after another human being; there’d been purpose in the act and strategic thought required. His brother came next. And eventually in his service to the Crown, anyone who couldn’t defend themselves.
With time and a hard education in the filth of human nature, he’d learned the truth: women wanted to be cared for. Wanted to be claimed. Even the courtesans he’d spent a handful of nights with had leaned into it—none of them rejecting the attention, though he was no fawner. Those women didn’t last.
He’d known all kinds—from his broken, pitiable mother to manipulative temptresses and willing, compliant lovers. But never—not once—had he met a woman who could be manhandled the way Addien had been today, still carry the marks of it, and insist on looking after herself.
It was confounding.
Infuriating.
Admirable.
And there’d be no day on this earth, not as long as Thornwick prowled it, where Addien would be left alone to lick the wounds inflicted by another.
As Thornwick went about preparing the provisions which had been sent up upon his request, Addien’s direct gaze followed him at every moment.
