Haven house, p.6
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Haven House, page 6

 

Haven House
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Emma (uk)  
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  Morning came swiftly, the sun fitful and watery, shining through the glass, only broken by the grey lace at the window.

  I rose swiftly and set about climbing into my skirt. I reached for the buttons to find my fingers brushed away.

  “Let me assist.” His breath whispered over the sensitive skin of my nape.

  Much as I wanted to say I could do it myself, his fingers were already there.

  Is he torturing me? I swallowed hard.

  He’d already dressed, and we shoved everything back into the small valises we’d brought with us.

  “Today will be long. Stay close. If we get separated, find a bakery and wait for me.”

  Shock and surprise cascaded through me, and I stared at him. If I were him, I’d probably want to laugh, but his face didn’t change. “A bakery?”

  He smiled, and it twisted the knife in my guts, because some tiny seed of hope was blooming. “No one ever thinks to look there.” As he spoke, he shoved a wad of money into my pocket. “Just in case. There’s an address there too, but only if there’s no other way.” He cleared his throat. “But I will come for you, Ammy.”

  Our eyes met as if he were trying to impart some dark truth to me. I nodded, and the tension that had filled him seeped away a bit.

  He took my hand, and even with the layers of gloves, I still felt his heat. We headed downstairs and out the door.

  The streets were deserted except for the few moving about their business in the early morning hours. He looped my arm through his, and we walked. I knew what he was doing. For all the world, we looked like a couple, fresh in from the country, looking for somewhere to begin a life together.

  Our gait was unhurried as we traipsed up one street, crossed a thoroughfare, and headed down a lane. Through a gate and out to the other side of a backyard and onto another street.

  After what felt like hours, he hailed a cab, and we pushed inside. He gave directions, and we moved at a more rapid pace before ending outside a theatre.

  “How long—”

  “Shhh,” he answered, waiting as the cab we’d just climbed out of headed off. He pulled me into a doorway. “We’ve been seen.”

  “Really? I fail—”

  He ended my words with his lips against mine. They were warm, firm, and mobile against my own. I dropped my bag and reached up, holding on to his shoulder.

  Long seconds passed as my fingers held tight, seeking purchase. Then he pulled away.

  “This is the dangerous part. Stay close,” he murmured, and our gazes collided.

  A sound, loud and booming, had me half turning.

  The sheriff grabbed my shoulder and drove me to the ground as bits of wood flittered down around us.

  “They’ve found us. Quick, crawl around the side, then head down the lane. Don’t stop. Don’t look back.” He spoke urgently, and something inside me lurched.

  The danger is real.

  He shoved me, and I finally moved, following his instructions. My feet slipped as I made to rise, then found purchase on the damp soil, still clinging tightly to the small bag I’d been carrying. I followed the path between the buildings, got to the other end, and ducked into the nearest shop.

  A bakery.

  “No…” I laughed, high-pitched and on edge as I settled into a seat in a darker corner. The building was nearly empty, and a woman sauntered over. I gulped and blinked. I’d need to order something, or she’d think something was wrong.

  “Tea?” The woman stared at me for several long seconds.

  I nodded furiously, shoving my bag beneath the table and finding the small stash of notes he’d shoved into my pocket just this morning. “Yes. Bring two cups. A friend may join me.” It took every ounce of self-possession to settle myself, but at least I sounded normal enough, if a little winded.

  The woman retreated, and I laid my hands in my lap. They twisted the heavy material of my skirt, but outwardly I would project a calm facade.

  The tea came, and I drank slowly, waiting the whole time for someone to arrive. Someone looking for me. Every time the door opened, I started.

  Eventually, I finished the drink and wondered what to do with myself. Where should I go?

  The door opened again, the bell pealing. I looked up, and there he was. The sheriff. I couldn’t control the sudden quiver of my lip or the dancing butterflies deep in my stomach.

  Emotions I’d tamped down hard crashed around me. I dropped my head so he wouldn’t read them on my face. I didn’t want to even acknowledge them, but they remained there.

  He advanced, stood looking down at me, the heat of his gaze searing. The chair scraped back on the wood floors before he sat opposite me. “You aren’t injured?” His words raked over my mind like fingers on a chalkboard.

  I shook my head, unsure that I’d be able to answer without giving everything away.

  He reached out, took my hand in his, and I turned to gaze upon him.

  I felt the frisson of connection between us. “I thought you’d been hurt. Captured.” I licked my lips, and when our eyes met, his were dark with intense emotion.

  “No. But we should leave.”

  I nodded and rose, as did he, the heat of his resting hand low on the curve of my back. Even through the layers of cloth, it scorched me.

  A dark carriage, horseless and with a driver waiting, sat near the shopfront. The sheriff urged me forward and in. “The residence,” he commanded.

  Once the door shut behind us, bags dropped to the floor, he pulled me forward. “I’m glad I found you safe. They know we’re here.”

  Fury bubbled to the surface. “Who? Who knows we’re here, and how? Why?”

  In the gloom, his eyes glinted. “I’ll tell all when we arrive. Soon.”

  It wasn’t enough to calm the waves that crashed inside me, but I held on to my emotions because I’d learned early not to question. Not to push for more information than a man would freely give. I’d learned never to show my emotions.

  A new side of me was emerging, though, and she—this new Amaryllis—wouldn’t be contained for long. The thought scared me while it also freed me from the constraints I’d endured in the years I’d been held by them.

  We turned a corner, and the carriage sped up. “Where…?”

  His fingers curled around mine. “We won’t take long.”

  I wanted to curl in now, to bask in the sense of well-being that came with his words and the fantasies I’d been unable to escape since I’d first seen him.

  It took every ounce of willpower to pull away, but I did. Now I glanced through the glass, watching as we entered the heart of the city, past buildings that towered into the heavens. Some appeared six and seven stories high. “They’re so big!”

  He grinned. “Not really. I hear New Jerome has higher buildings again.”

  I turned. “You’ve been there?”

  He shook his head. “No. But Gloriana and Andrew have.”

  I sat back and considered his words. “You’ve known them for a long time?”

  “Something like that. I told you about my mother and father. Andrew kept in touch, and when the chance came to swing back around your way, well, I wanted to do my part.”

  “You chose this assignment?”

  “Sort of.” He narrowed his gaze and shrank back against the seat. “Sit back and be quiet.”

  His hand dug down at the holster on his hip, and I sucked in a deep breath, following his instructions.

  A tiny unit, a ball with cogs and a large monocle-type eye, whirred past the carriage.

  I opened my mouth, but he shook his head. He did, however, tug at my shawl, and awareness spread through me. I pulled it over my head as he slouched in his seat and dipped his chin, though I could see the tension surrounding him, the way his gaze kept track of the window.

  With handkerchief in hand, I mock-dabbed at my eyes and waited. The tiny machine came back, hovered for a moment outside, and whirred before flying off.

  “Was that…?” I couldn’t finish because my mind was overcome with the reality. Someone was looking for us.

  “Yes. Once we reach the Retreat, we’ll be safe.”

  The carriage moved slowly, far too slowly to soothe the rapid cadence of my heart, as we moved farther into the city.

  Finally, a large black gate of iron slid open, and we rolled within.

  The portico, solid marble by its appearance, loomed over us, as the carriage stopped at a set of stairs. “Welcome back, sir.”

  He handed me down and inside, letting a breath whoosh out once the heavy wood doors clanged shut behind us.

  “Come this way.” He started down the hall, and for the first time, I wondered where we were. He was clearly at ease here in this gigantic house. It was furnished in dark wood, with pastoral images surrounded in gilt all over the walls.

  I glanced down. My footfalls were silenced by a long runner, the wine-red and verdant green thick beneath my feet.

  Looking up, I noted the way he watched me. “What is this place?”

  His smile widened. “My home.”

  In the bedchamber I’d been assigned, I blinked as I worked on coming to terms with what I’d just learned.

  This was the sheriff’s home.

  A large mansion in the middle of the city.

  The imposing four-storey home was well appointed with immense windows peering out onto what I could only describe as a private park. The house itself boasted a landing full of bedrooms, with solid, heavy, but impeccable furnishings. Not one speck of dust in sight, and staff enough to serve a palace.

  A young lady who’d introduced herself as Jessie had already come in and was even now bustling around the room. It seemed she’d ordered a bath to be drawn in the bathing room, and I watched her giving orders from the deeply cushioned lounge. It was downright surreal. First moving from Haven House to Andrew and Gloriana’s estate, and now to this.

  “Uh, Jessie?”

  The girl turned in my direction. “Yes, Miss Amaryllis?”

  “Tell me about the sheriff.”

  Her smile faded a little. “He doesn’t come here much anymore, miss. Not since his mother passed, God rest her soul.”

  Not quite the answer I expected. So I waited, hoping she’d shed more light on the situation. She resumed the unpacking and hanging of the few items of clothing inside the bag.

  Another maid scurried into the room. “The bath is ready.” Then the girl bobbed a quick curtsy and left the bedroom.

  Jessie gestured me into the bathing room, then shut the door and set about assisting me with undressing. Once again, the sense of being in a world I didn’t know and couldn’t understand filled my head.

  I slid into the deep bath with a sigh of relief. Jessie hiked up a sleeve, and I saw the implant. “Your arm,” I gasped.

  Jessie turned and smiled. “The sheriff’s mother fixed me. I was in a nasty accident not long after she began her practice. All the other doctors wanted to cut it off, but she looked and said she’d make it right again.” She flexed the muscles, and for the first time, I heard the whirr of moving parts.

  “How did…?”

  The smile Jessie turned toward me was filled with gratitude. “She knew I’d never get normal work with my injuries and the cynetic implants, are reserved for the rich, or those who do bad things. So she hired me. Had me trained as her personal maid, and I’ll be eternally grateful for that. When she died, the sheriff kept me on. Told me one day he’d need my help.” The sigh she released was full of sadness. “But he’s never here. Too busy working for the law and his special team dealing with those religious fools.”

  I bit my lip. “Religious fools” certainly described the situation I’d found myself in. After all, couldn’t the Haven situation be characterised as a cult? It didn’t explain how he went from poor at the time of his father’s death to this mansion, though.

  The need to find out rose in my throat, but I squashed it down. I refused to pry. It was his business, yet it didn’t exactly make sense, and if I couldn’t understand it, my discomfort levels always rose expeditiously.

  I considered Jessie’s explanation. Many questions ran through my head, but I wanted to know more about the terminology raised. “So, you call them cynetic implants. Aren’t they cyborg-kinetic?” I frowned and bit my lip, wondering if that could be considered prying.

  Jessie blinked, then returned a sunny smile. “Oh, well, Dr Whitmore was different in her approach to dealing with infirmities like mine. Most people have whole implants or replacements, such as arms, legs, and hands. She trialled something entirely different. She knew many of us would have to face ridicule and might be treated badly, so she considered that by performing a partial removal and replacement, it would be less visible. I was one of the first she tried this new therapy on. They replace what’s under the skin but use a true skin to overlay it, so it’s out of sight.”

  I shook my head and picked up the washcloth, applying it to my body as I considered her words.

  Certainly, in my experience, I’d seen many who were treated poorly with implantation and replacement therapies, but when I thought of Junior, fear was the first and most major concern that came to mind. He was a horrible man. A bully. His replacement had been merely to give the appearance of strength and the power that came with money. For him, it was all about the status.

  “How could you afford it?”

  She tittered. “The doctor was a kind lady. After hours, she’d take on those of us who couldn’t afford to pay. We would then offer something in return, be it working in the clinic or something similar. Nothing onerous, but it's how she allowed us to repay her act of kindness. My mother was a dressmaker, so she made gowns for the doctor, things like that.”

  I rolled the information over in my thoughts as I finished bathing. When I was ready, I stood, and Jessie handed me the towel. I took it, lost in my thoughts, and followed her back into the bedroom.

  Clothes I’d never seen waited for me, and I turned. “Whose are these?”

  Jessie smiled. “They were sent here yesterday for you. I believe from Mrs Coultihan.”

  “They knew,” I murmured. It seemed I was the last to know, as always.

  Dinner was quiet, with the sheriff lost in thought and me wondering how I’d possibly amuse myself for the next however long I’d be here.

  “Prisoner” wasn’t quite the word I could use to describe the situation I now found myself in, but whatever word fit more appropriately, well, I couldn’t really say.

  Certainly the house was comfortable. It had already been made clear to me that whatever I needed or requested, within reasonable boundaries, would be made available. Yet I was at a loose end, unable to wander or leave the house.

  That led to my next conundrum. While the remains of the meal were taken away, I cleared my throat. “Could I perhaps look in the library? See if there’s reading material I might borrow?”

  The sheriff looked at me. “Of course. You have only to ask.” His smile was absent, as if he were working through some odd issue that only now came to mind.

  “I should retire for the evening, then,” I muttered and rose.

  “Ammy?”

  His voice stilled me as I turned away. I didn’t turn back because I wasn’t really sure what he’d say, and whether it wouldn’t be more than I can deal with.

  “You don’t have to leave. I know I haven’t been the best of company tonight, but I enjoy having you near.”

  Oh Lord! My mouth dried up, and I wanted to turn, to stay, but I wasn’t ready to deal with any kind of connection between us. What came next? When would I be ready? Would I ever be prepared? Questions too big for me to answer right now. “I’m exhausted, Sheriff.”

  “Damien,” he corrected me.

  I shook my head, because his gentle reminder had my belly churning with emotions I didn’t want to consider. “Sheriff,” I said, reinforcing to both of us the need for that separation between us.

  “Damien.” I hadn’t heard him move behind me, but suddenly he was there, his hands holding me in place.

  Heat enveloped me, and the whisper of his breath caressed the back of my skin. God, I wanted to squirm, to turn and burrow myself into his embrace. I squeezed my eyes shut even as my body betrayed me, the finest shiver starting as nerve endings danced and jumped.

  “Say it, Ammy.”

  “Da… Damien.” It came out as a whisper, though my voice sounded unlike my own. Thick.

  “Yes,” he said.

  Behind my closed lids, stars exploded. My breathing came in rapid pants.

  “Ammy?”

  He turned me, and I held my eyes closed even as my body demanded I should open them, look at him.

  “Open your eyes.”

  They fluttered open, and there he was, his face harsher than I’d seen before. His eyes glinted in the lamplight.

  “Damien?” I didn’t know what I was asking, but the word slipped from my mouth, the question hanging between us.

  I swayed toward him, and our lips met.

  Touched.

  Soft, like the wing of a butterfly, before he slid away again.

  In that short while, I lost control of myself and my emotions as bones melted and needs swelled. A languor spread through me, one wholly alien and yet so exciting!

  He smiled, a masculine symbol of satisfaction. “You should go to bed, Ammy.”

  I blinked. “I… What?”

  He reached out, brushed a loose curl from my face. “Go to bed. Otherwise, I’m going to want more than you’re prepared for.” In his words lay a promise, dark and hungry.

  I stepped back, noting the predator. “I… Yes, I’ll visit the library in the morning.”

  His fingers dropped away, and I could breathe again without the intoxicating scent of Damien there to befuddle me.

  “Goodnight,” I muttered and fled, feet moving swiftly over the deep carpeting as I reached for the door. The urge to turn back, to see if he watched, filled me, and I ruthlessly tamped it down, swung through the door, and headed to my chamber.

  No man will own me. No man will dictate my decisions.

  If only I could believe that!

 
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