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Carter was saved from having to make further conversation with Rocco by the arrival of Lecy, avenging Carter. Her countenance was frozen and her eyes glittered as she snapped, “You aren’t taking her, you—” She seemed to struggle to find a word before settling for stomping her foot. “It’s barbaric and medieval. I won’t allow this to go any further.”
“We have no choice,” Rocco said firmly. “Save the theatrics, Lecy, and be grateful he didn’t choose you.”
She screamed in outrage before turning storming from the room. Darren covered a laugh with a discreet cough, but Carter grinned unabashedly. Thank God he hadn’t chosen that one, he thought.
Scarlett, cold and fiercely proud, came back into the room, lugging a heavy suitcase. “Will you send more of my things, Father?”
“Don’t bother.” Carter and Darren rose to stand beside her. “As she is my responsibility for the next six months, I’ll provide for her.”
Darren took the suitcase from Scarlett with a soothing smile. Carter envied how he could do that, he had never been the warm type, and then the scars. They certainly made things more difficult for him.
Carter followed behind him, saying to the still-motionless Scarlett, “Come along before I have to carry you.” She started walking immediately, without even a goodbye for her father.
As she walked all that Carter could think about were her full lips and the way her hips sashayed as she moved.
Scarlet was a spit fire beauty.
And for the next six months, she was all his.
