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“He’s not here right now,” he says.
I nod, gulping. The man seems to be less anxious even though he’s not stopped watching me. Unsure whether I’m able to leave or if moving will inspire him to shoot at me, I turn my eyes about the room instead, avoiding his burning, uncomfortable stare.
Everything in this house is grand. Gold lion heads hang from walls, along with other ornate pieces. The sofa I’m sitting on matches with the other seats in the room. Above the fires is a picture of a man.
Okay, I retract what I thought about Heath when I first saw him. This man is the most handsome man I’ve ever laid eyes on. The painting captures a side profile of him. He has a rugged look about him. He’s not as clean cut as the men in Colderidge, not as pretty as Heath with perfectly coiffed hair, always sporting a clean-shaven face. This stranger has dirty-blond hair that seems to be styled only with his hands. It’s messy and falls around his white collar, turned up at his neck. Streaks of blonde play upon his hair like sunlight.
His brows drop low and brooding. His blue eyes seem to twinkle with menace. His beard is short but long enough for any gentleman to require an immediate shave. But something about him gives me the sense that he’s a darker kind of gentleman. Or perhaps not a gentleman at all. In some ways, he reminds me of the men I grew up around, and heaven knows I never grew up around gentlemen. But the way he holds himself reminds me of the men in Colderidge. He’s a mystery, this one. A sizzling intrigue.
“Who’s that?” I ask the man whose eyes I can still feel upon me.
“That’s the boss. He’s the one you’ll have to answer to. If he decides you can leave, you’ll leave,” he says.
My head whips around. “If he decides? But I haven’t done anything that would cause him to hold me. Please. I’m just trying to find my father. Maybe you can even help me. I doubt he made his way this far, but this is where my horse’s nose led to. Please, sir. Have you seen him? Brown hair with some streaks of grey? He’s healthy looking, normally, but I suppose he’d look rather ragged after being left in the snow, especially if he had to walk all this way on foot…”
The man’s eyes widen, and his mouth falls open for a bit. I nod toward him, a smile turning my lips up. “You’ve seen him, haven’t you?” I ask. “You look as if you have. Please, if you could just tell me which way he went, then I could be out your hair.” I sigh in relief. “You can just explain to your boss that you helped me locate my father.”
The man clears his throat. “Come with me,” he says, rising to his feet.
I’m hesitant, looking at his outstretched hand. This man is a stranger, and I don’t know if I can trust him. “Sir, if it’s quite all right. I’d prefer if you just told me which way he went, and I’ll get on my horse and track him,” I say.
“Your horse is long gone,” he says.
“Wh-what? What did you do to him?” I whisper, bringing a hand to my mouth.
“Nothing. He just ran off,” he says, impatiently, walking toward me and grabbing hold of my hand.
“No! No! Where are you taking me?” I pull against him.
“I’m taking you to your father,” he barks.
“No, you’re not.” I cry. “Please, sir. Let me go.”
He carries me through a long hallway that blurs through my fear. At the end of the hall, he opens a door to a dark room. “No!” I scream. “No!”
“Look, lady. Don’t you want to see your father?” He pulls on my hand, sternly communicating that I should shut my trap.
Tears pool down my face. Of course, it’s a silly idea to wander around on my own. Papa has warned me, and I didn’t listen. Now this man is going to trap me here, to do heaven knows what before killing me. And I’ll never see my father again.
The man lights a lantern, and I see dusty wooden stairs leading down into a cellar. And when we turn the corner, only a few steps further, my internal organs collapse.
“P-P-Papa.” My lips shake. I can hardly believe he’s the same man who left me just a little over a day ago. He’s bloody and crusted. His skin has multiple shades: blue, green, purple, and smudges of black.
When he sees me, he tries to rush forward but howls in pain. “Olivia!” Papa cries.
“I guess I’ll leave you two to catch up,” the man with the scar says before stalking back up the stairs and locking me in the room with my father behind metal bars. As soon as the man leaves us, I check the lock for a way to let him out.
Papa pulls his tired and painful body toward the cell. “There’s no use,” he says, grabbing my hands. “Olivia,” he whispers, squeezing them tightly. “Run, baby. As soon as you get the chance, you’ve got to run. If you stay here, they’ll kill you.” One of his eyes widens and tears brim over. “Please, Olivia. Don’t let them hurt you.”
Chapter Six
Adam
Mybloodbubbleshotterthan a thermal spring as I pull at the ties of my riding cloak and throw my hat to the side. The wretched old man has tried to outsmart me again. It’s stupid, really. After beating him for hours last night, he has finally disclosed where he ‘had the money.’ In a bank in Colderidge, he had said. So, this morning, I’ve met with an associate of mine who has connections at the bank. I’ve sent him to look about getting my money withdrawn. This associate meets me in town because I don’t disclose where I live to just anyone.
He has come back empty handed. Now, he knows not to mess with my money and has seen my wrath before. So, when he tells me that Townes Primrose doesn’t have an account at the bank, I know he isn’t lying. I also know he isn’t lying after holding my empty pistol to his head and pulling the trigger. So, I let him go and ride a half hour back to my home, wondering what to do with the silly old fool.
He must know he’s enraged me, and there’s no way for him to escape, so what exactly is his plan? I don’t know whether I should kill him or send him back out there to get me my money. He’ll probably only disappear on me again for another five years. Because I doubt he has any of it left at all.
