Good. Fucker.
I stand of my own volition, ignoring his hand. He sighs and gestures for me to lead the way. I do, heading—naked—to the kitchen.
The smell is amazing, there is no use denying that. My mouth waters as I take in Ben, standing behind Theo, his arms around his waist, nuzzling his neck. I clear my throat, awkwardness dancing through me.
They turn languidly.
“Ah, sweetling.” Theo smiles, all ease and light. “I’m glad to see you awake.”
Ben turns and strides to a stool at the island. “Here, flower, we don’t want you to be cold.”
He holds out a floor length robe.
My eyebrows draw together, suspicious.
But I step forward and let him put it on me. It’s heavy and lined. I pull the belt tight.
“Thank you.” I attempt to not sound as grumpy as I am.
“Sit, please,” murmurs Arch, indicating the stool, even as he slips into the one next to me.
I do, and Ben and Theo go back to finishing dinner. Ben chops sweet peppers and carrots and adds them to a large bowl of greens.Salad. I love salad. When Ben opens a cupboard and pulls down a glass jar, I gasp.
“Are those...raisins?” I ask, shocked.
“Yes,” he says as he tilts his head. “We have river-grape vines that cover the arbor out back, near the fire pit. They are wonderful for grape juice. The leavings can be dried for a type of raisin.” He steps across to the island and places a good-sized handful in front of me.
“Wow,” I whisper. I don’t have grapes in my small garden. Nor does any family in my compound. “Do you can the juice? Or...?”
Arch answers, “We usually can some, taking a day or two extra off to get it done, but even for three it is still a lot of work.”
I answer without thinking, a mantra my father repeated, “Many hands make light work.”
All three of these idiots grin at me. I take a few raisins in my mouth and Ben turns, adding some to the salad. The dried fruit hits my tongue, perfectly tart and rich and the exact texture I remember.Damn, these are fantastic.
I sit, savoring the raisins Ben gave me, as they finish making dinner. Arch sits beside me silently. He eventually stands, going to help dish food. He turns and nods towards the table. “Go sit, bride. I’ll bring you a glass of wine.” He smiles.
I stand slowly, tugging my robe tighter around me, as if it will protect me from them. I step to the table, our places set and waiting. I sit slowly, looking back at them. The moment my eyes are upon them, they all spin away, going back to what they were doing.
Dinner is awkward; they all chatter of inconsequential things, and heap servings of food on my plate.
I am not fooled however. I have a punishment coming. A large one. Trying to escape. I frown even as the tart raisins turn to ash in my mouth.
Brides are new; I am unsure of the punishment for escape of a bride. The punishment for the escape of a rebel, who theycapture as ‘servants’—if we’re not killed, however, is the removal of both large toes.
Apparently it makes it hard to run.
Surely an escapee bride will earn a worse punishment.
Too bad it isn’t death, I think, dejectedly staring at my plate.
I jump as a tail wraps around my calf, the tip stroking slowly in a comforting manner. I look up and Theo meets my eyes with a tiny smile before returning to the conversation.
Is this truly so bad?I frown harder.Three large strong males, more than capable of protecting me. And providing. This huge house, no need to haul water or firewood. Autumns canning grape juice together, springs boiling sap to make maple syrup, summers swimming in the lake and winters curled up with a book in front of the fireplace.
And nights spent coming my brains out.
I shake myself and it must be harder than I intended for the tail withdraws. Theo’s face is quietly sad.
