Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 131875 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 659(@200wpm)___ 528(@250wpm)___ 440(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131875 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 659(@200wpm)___ 528(@250wpm)___ 440(@300wpm)
“As you wish,” the steward said with a bow of his head.
Kerrigan smiled. So, they’d won that round.
“Wipe that smile off your face,” Constantine growled at her. “We’ve a long way to go.”
Then, he raised his head to the sky and let the magic flow freely from him. The wall parted, and Tarcus and his man trotted inside.
“Go to the great hall,” he told her. “Ask for the best wine and all the fruit and cheese available. I will greet him and stall, but proper hospitality must be maintained. He is looking for any reason to believe we have slighted him. We do not want that.” Constantine looked wary at the prospect. “Do you understand?”
“Yes,” she said, feeling for the first time like they were on the same side.
She dashed from the room, leaving Constantine to deal with Tarcus as she hurried to the kitchen. The cook had already been preparing a banquet for the senator, and at her approach, he instructed her on what to take to the sitting area and how to arrange it. A few kitchen runners followed her with heavily laden trays. She splayed them out as directed and then was left alone in the elaborate room.
The room felt cold, empty. More ostentatious than anything else on the estate. Wealth for the sake of wealth. She now saw it for what it was—a way to appease any Domaran people who came to this house and who would be offended by the more austere nature of Andine decorations.
The cook had told her not to pour any of the wine until Tarcus requested it, but the minutes ticked away, and she got more and more anxious to do just that. A drink would settle her nerves.
She was tempted to do so when the door to the sitting area opened. Constantine held it open for Tarcus, who stepped inside, his eyes immediately going to Kerrigan standing against the open window that looked over the olive garden below.
“There you are, darling,” he said, striding toward her. He took her hand and pressed a kiss to it. She wanted to wrench it back, but one look from Constantine told her to hold. Tarcus had faux concern in his expression. “I have been so worried over you.”
“Have you?”
“Of course.” He whirled in place. “I had already negotiated with your former employer for your release to me. Then, I returned from my trip to Carithian to find that you had been stolen by savages. I have come to rescue you from a fate worse than death.”
Kerrigan shot him a baffled look. What a revisionist history.
“Have no fear, love,” Tarcus said. “You will return home with me, as we planned.”
“That is quite a tale.”
“Has he hurt you?” Tarcus’s eyes widened in question. His voice dipped lower as he asked, “Touched you?”
She jerked her hand out of his. “No.”
“Tarcus,” Constantine growled.
“Well, I came all this way.” He removed a large pouch that clanked with gold as he set it down on a table next to the wine. “But this is double what you gave Flavia for her. If we leave now, I can still get us home before nightfall.”
“Tarcus,” Constantine said again.
“Shall we?” Tarcus offered her his hand.
The smug bastard thought that he’d already won. That by stepping into the house, he would get to take her out of here.
“She’s not going anywhere with you.”
Tarcus glanced once at Constantine, amusement on his lips. “Now, the payment is more than fair. In fact, many in the Senate would say that I don’t even need to pay you for the disrespect, but here I am, being generous.” He waved his hand at Kerrigan. “Pour us some wine. We don’t need to argue over this. We can be gentlemen.”
Then, Tarcus plopped down into an empty seat, kicking his feet up on the chaise. Kerrigan wanted to strangle him. But she needed to be sensible, and so did Constantine. Raging at Tarcus wasn’t the answer. That was what he expected. It was why he was enacting this entire performance.
She stepped around his wandering hands and took up the wine jug. She poured it carefully into three glasses. She handed one to Tarcus and then crossed the room to Constantine, putting it into his much larger hand.
“Steady,” she whispered.
He met her gaze, and she gave him a reassuring nod.
“I think there’s been a mistake,” Kerrigan said softly as she went back for her own wine. “Flavia told me that you never showed up. My purchase price was never finalized, and you made no commitment.”
Tarcus waved his hand. “Semantics.”
“Thus, when Constantine showed up, he paid, and I came here with him. I belong to him.”
He gulped down his entire glass of wine. “You hardly want to stay here. If it’s the money, then I can pay more, but really, this is all unnecessary.”