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THIRTY-FIVE
He set Alethia on her bed, prying her limbs loose from around him so that he could go back for her things. Only to realise there was someone hammering on the front door of her apartment.
A delivery of some sort, Stan assumed, as he marched to accept it. He threw open the door and found a man he'd never seen before standing there. "Well, what have you brought her?" he asked.
The man's eyes widened. "I didn't bring anything. I came to talk to Alethia. Is she home?"
"Who are you, and what business is it of yours?"
Stan wasn't sure whether he wanted to embrace the man for stopping him from ravishing Alethia, or knock him down for the interruption. Madness gripped him, and it had dug its claws into Alethia, too, for surely no sane woman would do such a thing during a waltz...
"I'm...I'm Birger. Her boyfriend. Who are you?" The man stuck his chin out aggressively. If he did not have such a weak chin, it might have been impressive.
A boy friend? Stan had never heard of such a thing. "Alethia? There is a boy here who claims to be your friend. Is it true?"
Alethia limped into the dining room. "A boy who...no, I don't have...Birger! What are you doing here? How did you get through the security gates? You shouldn't even be here! How did you get my address?"
Dread curdled in Stan's stomach, or it would have if he still had a stomach. He wasn't sure he did. "You are the one who stalks her, though you have no permission to court her? Begone, and never return. If you so much as try to speak to her again, it will be the last thing you ever do."
The boy trembled with fear, but he had courage. Stan had to give him that. "Alethia, are you all right? Did he hurt you?"
"Begone or I shall hurt you!" Stan roared.
The boy nearly tripped over his own feet, he bolted so fast down the corridor. Stan glared at him until he rounded the corner to the stairwell and vanished from sight.
Only then did he slam the door behind him and lock it.
"He will not return," Stan said with considerable satisfaction. "See? I will protect you, just like I promised." And he would not take her to bed, no matter how much he longed for her.
Alethia offered him a small smile. "Thanks, Stan." She limped back from whence she'd come.
"I will go and fetch your things from the rooftop. Then, if you wish, I will read aloud to you," Stan said. He would also take a moment to scour the surrounding streets, to make sure her stalker truly had departed.
"Sure."
But by the time he returned, her even breathing beneath the covers told him she was already asleep, with no need for his help. So he did what he did best – he sat in the chair beside her bed, and watched over her, to keep her safe. From both that boy and his own traitorous body.
It wasn't until much later that he realised that when he'd threatened the boy, he'd sounded exactly like William, when he'd warned Stan away from Carline.
But it wasn't the same, he told himself. He was protecting Alethea. Why, that boy was the reason she'd summoned Stan to be her protector in the first place.
Whereas William...
If Carline's brother had not been such an insufferable prig, Stan might have been able to court her properly. So that she might have married him, instead of some other man, and Alethia...
Alethia would not exist, because she was the granddaughter of the other man Carline had married.
And the world would be a far poorer place for it.
A future without Alethia in it...he didn't dare consider it. Wouldn't allow it to happen, because he was her protector, and he would protect her from everything and everyone who even thought to harm her.
Because she was his to protect, and no one else's.
