AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Hell, my sanity depended on it.
If I’d come here of my own volition, the idea of starting a new life, of working with others to bring this homestead, this land back to its full potential would have intrigued me. The thought of spending time with Kit was captivating as well. The young woman had an innocence, a joy in life that was refreshing. And the thought of each of the brothers… well, the thought of those assholes confused me. Most of the time, I wanted to strangle the men. I knew I should want to see them rot in jail for what they’d done to me. I should want nothing more than to see them pay. Yet, when I remembered the kiss, the touches, just a hand on my thigh or a lust-filled glare, I couldn’t help but crave more. The more animalistic they behaved, the more I seemed drawn to them. To each one of them.
Each one of them I craved.
Not one.
Three.
If I was honest, I enjoyed sparring with the arrogant assholes. While they hadn’t harmed me, I knew what they were capable of. No, it wouldn’t do to push them too far. I rode a fine line.
They were men of their words. I knew this. And if I did anything at all to have Kit see them in the fucked-up light they deserved to be seen in… they would kill me. Their love for Kit would force them to do that. I wasn’t foolish enough to think otherwise.
I should hate them. Fear them. Want to kill them.
But never had my body responded to a man’s touch like it did with these men. Their fingers seared my skin, and a simple touch had my very core throbbing. My pulse pounded at the very thought of them.
Something had to be fundamentally wrong with me. I couldn’t understand how the memory of men pressing me against the wall in such an aggressive manner took my breath away every single time I thought about it. I definitely couldn’t understand how the thought of their looks, their tone of voice, their commands and orders, and even their fucked-up threats on my life only made me desire more of their dominance. Now that we were here, maybe I’d be able to figure out what part of my psyche allowed these men to have this power over me. Maybe, now that the dust had settled a bit, I could figure out what I truly wanted from the very men who drove me crazy.
My three captors.
I stepped away from the window and glanced around the room. As I made my bed, I couldn’t help but think I’d never take clean sheets, soft pillows, and warm blankets for granted again. Funny how being restrained in a dark shed made you appreciate all those little items you normally give no thought to. I smoothed the quilt. It was beautiful, made of colorful patchwork, and I wondered whose hands had stitched each piece. Had those same hands embroidered the tiny white flowers that decorated the bodice of the quaint nightgown I was wearing? The cotton was thin, soft, and decidedly old-fashioned, a far cry from the oversized T-shirt I’d normally wear to bed.
Pulling the gown over my head, I hurried to what served as a closet, opening the door to try to find something to change into. The men had assured me all my needs would be met. Since I didn’t exactly pack, I had to assume they’d provide me with something to wear. Inside the beautiful cherrywood armoire were several skirts, blouses, and dresses of all colors and designs. They were delicate and feminine, reminding me of the type of clothing Kit wore. Making my choice, I pulled on a peach-colored dress. The hem reached just below my knees. Slipping my feet into sandals, I looked at myself in the mirror on the outside of the armoire. The ensemble was lighter in color than I normally wore, but it wasn’t a huge change.
After running an ivory comb through my curly locks, I pulled my hair up into a loose bun, tucking stray strands into place with the bobby pins I found in a little dish on the dresser. Realizing there was no makeup that I could see, I shrugged. I had some items in my purse, but what were the chances my kidnappers had grabbed it on the way out the door? Since my store had become a crime scene, I would guess slim to none. Remembering my last sight of the shop had been of some poor dead woman, I pushed all thoughts of making up my face out of my head. Rye had said they hadn’t killed her, but… well, I might not have foundation or blush, but at least I still had my life.
With one last look in the mirror, seeing the pretty white iron bed with its quilt, the lace curtains, the rag rug on the floor reflected behind me, I couldn’t help but think it looked like I belonged in an ancientSouthern Livingmagazine ad—Mountain Living edition. However, this wasn’t some photo shoot, and I wasn’t a model advertising the beauty of the simple, rustic life. While I didn’t know exactly what I was facing, I was honest enough to admit I wasn’t entirely miserable. It was time to start the first day in my new life, and hopefully I could pull this off. I didn’t want to be returned to the woodshed to be fucked by each one and to await my death. And it wasn’t just the threat of death for me to not want Kit to see her brothers as the monsters they truly were, because I knew it would hurt her far more than it would hurt them. She didn’t deserve to lose her happiness and light. She was far too good for darkness. So, if I was going to do this, it was going to be for her.
Not them.
Definitely not them.
Leaving my room, I thought about what this new adventure had in store for me. I wasn’t a stranger to cooking, but that had been when I had modern appliances, such as a food processor and a microwave on my counter. I had seen enough of the cabin to know it would most likely lack all I was used to. Plus, did I really have it in me to sit down and watch my kidnappers enjoy a meal that would take me most of the day to prepare?
I walked down the stairs and made my way through a room I guessed would have been called the parlor back in the day. Running my hands over the back of a settee, I realized everything in this room was antique and elegant. Not a piece of furniture nor trinket was modern in appearance. The wooden floor, the fireplace, the rocking chair in the corner of the room, all screamed a rich family history. Delicate lace doilies covered the arms of the overstuffed armchairs to protect the upholstery beneath. It was obvious every detail to make this cabin feel like a home was executed flawlessly. As I couldn’t picture any of the three Barrett men caring much about all these homey touches, I thought it likely they were a reflection of the brothers’ mother or grandmother. I wondered what she’d think of her precious little boys’ life choices?
I continued my impromptu tour, crossing the hall, moving toward the back of the cabin to find the kitchen. Standing in the doorway, I glanced around. As I expected, the kitchen was far from modern; not even a toaster or coffeemaker cluttered the counter. At least there were some useful items. I noticed a refrigerator that appeared at least a decade older than the one in Granny G’s apartment. The stove was far older, a definite throwback to times gone by. Sturdy wooden shelves nearby held several cast-iron frying pans, roasters, cooking pots, and a large blue-enameled coffee pot. Cooking in this kitchen was definitely going to be a challenge. Speaking of coffee, I could sure use a cup.
“Good morning.”
The greeting had me jump as I saw Banks sitting at a large wooden farm table. His long legs were stretched out, and one arm was slung over the back of the wooden chair, a pile of papers in front of him. I instantly felt like I was trespassing on his morning routine and I didn’t belong. When he lifted his cup to take a sip, I took a moment to study his face, his eyes, his entire body. It was hard to believe this man sitting before me played a part in my kidnapping. He was not only relaxed, almost friendly and inviting, his very presence oozed morning sex and sunlight kisses all at the same time. I felt my guard relax by simply standing before him. This man may be soft right now, but when it came right down to it, he was also my ruthless jailer. No matter how my mind—and body—were playing tricks on me, this man was just one of three captors who held the skeleton key to my cage.
“Um, good morning,” I said, wondering how I could try to make my voice not sound so nervous and weak all the time. I glanced at the floor, at the ceiling, around the kitchen to try to avoid his piercing stare. “Where is everyone else? Kit?” When he didn’t answer, I lifted my gaze to him.
As if that was what he’d been waiting for, waiting for my respect, he nodded his approval.
“She’s out collecting eggs with her brothers so you can make breakfast.” He slowly scanned me from head to toe. “You look really pretty today.”
I bit my tongue before I could tell him to make his own damn breakfast. Starting the first day of my new life with an argument was probably not a good idea. I must remember that the deal had been made, and I needed to keep my end of the bargain. And it wasn’t the cooking comment that had truly thrown me… it was the compliment. “Um, thanks. I didn’t realize anyone was up yet.”
Banks shrugged. “We let you sleep in, though that is not to become a habit.”
“Give me my cell phone, and I’ll be glad to set my alarm.”
His lack of response told me how that request would go. I felt a bit foolish but blamed it on lack of caffeine. “I’m sure I’ll acclimate. How about I get you some more coffee?” I offered, looking toward the stove again.
He lifted his cup. “Not coffee, this was milk.”
