Page 2 of Papa's Little Bride
“Oh, Mabel, for God’s sake, don’t send the girl away. What’s your name, girl?”
Unease creeps through me. I glance up as the large elderly man ambles down the staircase. Perspiration glistens on his face, and by the time he reaches the landing, he’s practically sweating through his fine tailored suit.
Hisleering gaze makes my skin crawl. When he gets closer, his pale blue eyes bore into me with an eagerness that puts me further on edge. Now standing directly in front of me, he smiles to reveal crooked yellow teeth.
“My, my, you’re a pretty little thing,” he says. “Now tell me, what’s your name, girl?”
“Who cares what her name is!” The lady of the house strides up to her husband andwhacks him on the back of the head. “She is far too young, Harold, and you have proven time and time again that you cannot be trusted. I won’t stand by while you diddle yet another maid.”
The man’s face turns red and he starts screaming at his wife, cursing and issuing violent threats. Stunned, I take a few steps away from the spectacle.
Maybe I don’t want this job so much, afterall.
A blast of cold air hits me, with an almost violent force, and I turn to find the butler is holding the door open and signaling for my departure.
“I’d say it’s time you took your leave, miss,” he says, his voice barely audible over the ruckus of the Ashlors’ increasingly volatile marital dispute.
He doesn’t have to tell me twice. Gathering my threadbare cloak tight aroundmy arms, I hurry outside as the screams in the house grow louder.
The wind is blowing harder and clouds are even darker than when I first arrived. Puffs of white escape from between my chattering teeth. Shivering, I rush down the street in the direction of the main road, but in my haste, I stumble over a rock and start tumbling forward.
Before I can untangle my hands from my cloak,I’ve already fallen flat on my face.
Pain slices through me, and all the air leaves my chest in a whoosh of agony.
Kingston
She’s beautiful.
It’s the first thing I notice, before I realize she appears frightened.Her large blue eyes are filled with tears. She’s running too fast in her long skirts, and before I can reach her, she’s tripped and fallen on her face. I don’t know the pretty young lady’s name or what has her so upset, but there’s something sweet and innocent about her that calls up my protective instincts. Perhaps it’s her eyes. I’ve never seen a woman with eyes such a stunning, light shade of blue.
I kneel beside her and help her into a sitting position. She clutches her right cheek, and her lips are swollen and trembling, the bottom one split open. Her eyes land on me and widen further. She tries to scoot away, but I grasp her shoulders and keep her still, forcing her to continue holding my gaze.
“Shh,” I say in the most soothing tone I can summon. “I’m not going to hurt you.”I cast a quick glance down the street before returning my stare to the frightened young woman. “Was someone chasing you? You look as though you were running from the devil himself.”
“No one’s chasing me,” she replies in a small voice, almost a whisper. “I, um, had an interview for a maid position at the Ashlor Estate. It-it didn’t go so well.”
Understanding dawns. I tense and glareat the brick mansion at the end of the street. Dark rumors have swirled around that particular house for years, and it’s no secret that maids are always coming and going from the Ashlor Estate, their employment never lasting more than a few short weeks at a time. “Did Mr. Ashlor hurt you?”
When she shakes her head, her wavy golden tresses sway over her shoulders and brush upon the backsof my hands. I realize I’m still holding her, and I loosen my grip and then help her rise to her feet. She accepts my assistance and keeps shooting me curious looks. Her eyes no longer glimmer with tears, but I sense the turmoil surging through her. Whatever happened at the Ashlor Estate has left her shaken.
“What is your name, sweetness?” The endearment rolls off my tongue before I canstop it, and it’s then that I realize she looks vaguely familiar. I continue staring, trying to pinpoint how I know her.
She flushes. “My-my na-name is Faith.”
When I fail to place how I know her, I decide perhaps I’ve only seen her in passing on the street. Her name doesn’t ring any bells, so I likely haven’t ever been properly introduced to her.
If I had, I most certainlycouldn’t have forgotten.
Faith. God, she’s so adorable. I want to pick her up and carry her home, clean the dirt off her pretty face, and cuddle her in my lap until she calms down. My groin tightens at the prospect of having her close and in my arms. I tense again, my own thoughts taking me by surprise.
“Faith,” I finally repeat. “A pretty name for an even prettier girl.” I reachfor her and brush the leaves out of her hair. Her eyes flutter shut and a soft sigh escapes her lips. I marvel at how she melts under my touch. But as quickly as she seems to lose herself in the hands of a stranger, her eyes shoot open and she takes a swift step back.
“Thank you for helping me, sir, but I must be on my way.” She tries to veer around me, but I grasp her hand and pull hercloser. Our white breath intertwines, and my heart races to have her body so flush against mine. I’m careful to gentle my expression as I stare into her questioning gaze.
There’s a pull between us that I can’t explain.
The very air around us is electrified with tension.
