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Her feet stayed stubborn, digging into the gravel. Without turning around, bitter words escaped her, though her voice held onto a modicum of composure. “You have no duty to me. Release yourself from this ill-advised situation, Wes. Mr. Filmore can find me a more suitable trustee.”
“But I do have a duty to you.”
“You do not.” Her heel, but not her whole foot, lifted and stomped into the drive.
“I do. Your brother made me your trustee—asked me to become your guardian of sorts.”
She whipped around to him, fury flushing her cheeks. “Impossible. Morton hated you. You hated him.”
Wes’s shoulders lifted. “Things changed seven months ago. Forgiveness was had.”
“No—impossible. Not for how you left years ago. Not for what he did.”
His forehead tipped down, his glare piercing her. “What you did.”
Her mouth clamped closed, her nostrils flaring with an aggravated breath. A second passed, her stare warring with his until she shook her head and jerked to the side, then started to move past him.
“Where are you going, Laney?” He watched her as she stepped in a wide arc around him.
“None of your damn business.”
“Everything you now do is my damn business.”
She stopped at the front door, turning back to him, her eyebrows raised high. “Truly? We’ll see about that.”
“Where are you going, Laney?”
“To London. I’m going to find that stupid box, right the estate, and then figure out a way to get rid of you. For good.”
She spun and stormed into the manor.
Wes suppressed a grin.
It couldn’t have been easier—two birds, one stone.
Torture Laney.
And get the Box of Draupnir back into his possession.
Everything according to plan.
{ Chapter 5 }
Her hands slow, like mud caked them, moved in front of her, blurry, and she grabbed onto Wes’s arm. Her fingers went upward, crawling along his rumpled coat, and she managed to grip onto his lapel. Make him turn to her.
His look dropped to her, the fire, the hatred in his eyes so vicious she should be scrambling fast away. But she couldn’t. Couldn’t force her fingers straight enough to release him.
“No—no. You can’t mean it.” The words from her mouth nearly silent, desperate.
The hatred in his eyes locked onto her. “Can’t mean it? I surely do.” The alcohol so thick on his breath stung her eyes, making them water. “You were never anything more to me than some coin. Some pre-ordained burden to bear.”
All feeling left her limbs, her body swaying, floating away from her even though she could see her fingertips straining pink as they clutched the dark wool of his coat. “I—what—you cannot mean that, Wes—no, you cannot.”
His lips pulled back, vicious. “Face the truth, Laney. You are nothing. Nothing to me.”
She twisted her body, snapping her fingers away from her death grip on him. Stumbling, one foot, two through the hay and her hand hit the wall of the stable.
She should have known. Should have known something was wrong when he sent word for her to meet him in here.
