Page 33 of Alpha's Touch

“My former employer used to live near here, I believe. She remembered this house fondly. Seeing it, that is.”

“Did she now?”

All right, so it wasn’t the best explanation I could have come up with, but it was all I could think of at the time. I never thought he’d ask for so many details.

After a long, considering look, he asked, “Where is your Alpha, boy?”

So, he had noticed my scent. Betas often did but were not impressed by it in the least. In fact, most betas found it unpleasant.

“My Alpha is dead, sir,” I lied, as convincingly as I could. “He was a soldier in the Army and was killed in battle.”

“I wasn’t aware Crillia was at war.”

“He was killed in Sudfarma, sir. And not exactly a battle, but more like a Morovian raid.”

“And no one else wanted you? As pretty a boy as you are? With such pretty manners too.”

“Thank you, Your Lordship. My mistress, who wrote the letter, took me in. I’m a good worker.”

“We’ll see about that,” he said, and then turned to Nolan. “Let him start tonight at dinner. We’ll see if he knows how to serve properly. Give him a room in the servants’ quarters so he can get settled and let me know when it’s done.”

Nolan bowed to him, and I started to thank him again, but before I could get a word out of my mouth, he turned and strolled out of the scullery abruptly. An uncomfortable silence stretched out after he was gone. Then Mr. Nolan got to his feet and jerked his chin in my direction. “Come on, boy. Follow me.” I followed him out and up the narrow servant’s stairs to the top floor.

I had at least made it inside with the help of the baron. Now I had to be smart and keep my eyes and ears open. Somewhere in this huge, old mansion, the baron was keeping Wyatt and his cousins captive. He had to be. All I had to do was keep my wits about me and I’d find them.

****

Later that evening, I was in the scullery, trying to keep out of the way of the frenetic activity as the staff prepped for dinner service. The scullery maids were busy washing mounds of dishes the cook had dirtied up, and I saw one of them filling a small tray with bread and a few scraps she’d gleaned from the pots and pans before she scrubbed them. She saw me watching her and said she was going to feed the scraps to the dogs, but I hadn’t seen any dogs since I’d arrived. I was trying to keep an eye on her and not be too obvious about it, when Mr. Nolan saw me standing by the wall.

“You there, what are you doing? Take that soup tray up to the dining room and be quick about it. The baron hates to be kept waiting.”

“Yes, sir,” I said, just barely keeping myself from saluting him. He barked orders like my old first sergeant had done. As soon as I got settled, I had dressed in one of the uniforms Mr. Nolan had given me to wear. He had then taken me on a limited tour of the downstairs, so I knew at least where the dining room was. The interior of the castle was drafty and old, but it was well maintained, and the furniture in the dining room looked like solid mahogany and was very fine. The wallpaper was hideous though—a deep, purple color with garish yellow flowers. Still, it was high quality, and I knew this baron was rich—that much was apparent.

Which was probably why my livery was very fine, too, for such an out of the way castle—dark blue trousers made of good woolen material and a blue waistcoat with gold-colored buttons. On my feet were soft leather shoes I’d spent an hour polishing before dinner. Mr. Nolan was wearing a similar outfit, and we were the only ones serving. I grabbed the tray laden with bowls of soup and bread, draped a white napkin over my forearm, like I’d seen the footmen do at my aunt and uncle’s house when they were serving and went carefully up the steps to reach the main level of the house. Nolan was not far behind me, and I was concentrating so hard on not spilling anything, I barely looked up as I came in. I was still aware, of course, that two people were seated at the long, polished dining table. On one end was the baron, dressed in a beautiful dark waistcoat of black velvet with a snowy white shirt and cravat. He picked up a large goblet of blood red wine and drank deeply of it as his eyes followed me around the room. In fact, I felt his intent gaze and glowing eyes on me from the moment I entered, and it made me incredibly nervous.

At the opposite end of the table, some twelve feet away, was a beautiful young woman with blonde hair and dark, hunted eyes. She had long fingernails, and I thought she might be pretty when she wasn’t so nervous and stressed. She had on a beautiful, low-cut blue gown that left her shoulders and upper arms bare. It hung on her frame though, as if she’d lost a good deal of weight since she’d last worn it. I could see dark, finger-shaped bruises littering the creamy skin of her arms, shoulders and even her throat. She saw me notice the bruises and pulled up a dark, silken shawl to cover her shoulders.

I wondered if this was the viscountess Camilla, and if it was, why did she look as if she were about to have a nervous breakdown?

Her skin was pale, and she had ashen smudges under her eyes. Her movements were jerky, and her hands trembled as she picked up her fork. She wouldn’t make eye contact with me, though I tried. To be honest, she looked petrified, and she watched the baron like a cornered rat might watch a cat in the room.

She ate only a little of the soup I served her before quietly putting down her spoon. Dargan glared at her along the length of the table. “Waste not, want not,my dear.”

She flinched at his words, as if he’d berated her, though they were mild enough. All except for the term of endearment. It almost sounded like a curse as it fell from his lips. She picked her spoon back up and tried valiantly to eat a little more, though it was obvious she was forcing down each mouthful. After a moment, he noticed it too.

He shouted at her, banging one of those big fists on the table and making the dishes rattle. “I said to eat your damn soup! Why must you always be so disobedient and willful? Are you trying to irritate me? Are youdeliberatelytrying to make me angry? You are, aren’t you?”

She put her head down, still trembling, and said in a meek, tiny voice, “N-no my Lord. I’m so sorry, my Lord. I don’t mean to offend you.”

“Don’t you?” he thundered back. “I doubt that, you ridiculous fool. Bah! Justleave,if you’re not going to eat. Get out of my sight and go to your room! You disgust me.”

The poor lady got to her feet and stumbled from the table, practically running as she went toward the door and sobbing as she held a wadded-up handkerchief to her mouth. But as she passed his chair, a malicious smile creased his face, and he reached for her, snagged her hand and dragged her onto his lap. A wave of color rushed to her cheeks as he put his hand under her skirts and gave her a lascivious grin as she squealed not only with outrage, but seemingly with pain at whatever he was doing to her under her skirts. I shuddered to think what those ham-like hands could do to my own tender parts. Neither Nolan nor I moved so much as a muscle, and kept our eyes on the floor, but there was nothing wrong with our hearing. I felt like I should do something to stop this, but if I tried, he’d throw me out and first, I had to find out what had happened to Wyatt.

“I’ll come to you later tonight. Be ready,” he told her, his eyes hot with devout promise before he finally let her go. She managed to nod, keeping her face turned away from his as he let her go, and she sprang up and ran quickly from the room.

Neither Nolan nor I had made a sound, but Dargan still turned that violent temper of his on us like a weapon anyway.

“Well?” he shouted. “What are you waiting for? Don’t just stand there goggling at me. Clear these plates and serve me my next course!”

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