Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 27631 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 138(@200wpm)___ 111(@250wpm)___ 92(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27631 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 138(@200wpm)___ 111(@250wpm)___ 92(@300wpm)
“Nothing,” I call. “Just rearranging some furniture.”
A small pause. “At ten o’clock at night?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“It’s just something I do from time to time. When I get tired of the way things look.”
“Oh, you get bored with all your luxuries.” He snorts. “Sorry, I can’t relate. I was only discharged two weeks ago. I haven’t even had a chance to buy a mattress yet.”
No one has ever hated anyone more than this man hates me. Not even the rebels. “I really can’t apologize enough for the delay in starting your new life. I promise I'm going to get you out of here tomorrow.” I get back in position, speaking through my gritted teeth while continuing to move the dresser in place in front of the door, as I do every night, to keep possible intruders out. If only it kept the nightmares away. “I actually really like my furniture. I didn’t mean to imply I was sick of it.”
“You just don’t like its location.”
“Correct.”
“You like it in front of the door, instead.”
“How can you tell it’s in front of the door?”
“Shadows, princess.”
“Oh,” I say, out of breath. “Then yes, I guess I like it there.”
His sigh almost blows the door down. “Are you blocking the door to keep me out?”
“It’s not far-fetched to think you might strangle me while I’m sleeping, considering the continual anger you’ve been directing at me since this morning, but no…” I hesitate. “Well, I guess since the cat is already out of the bag and you know that I’m a coward, there’s no use in lying. I put the dresser in front of my bed every night to feel more secure.”
Silence. “Does it work?”
“Not really.”
“Then knock it off.” I stick my tongue out at the door, then immediately feel guilty for it. He gave ten years of service to my country! I’m gearing myself up to explain that it’s just a safety crutch when the knob turns and the door begins to open, easily sliding the dresser along with it. “This isn’t stopping anyone from coming in, prin—” He stops speaking abruptly when he sees me, his eyes tracking down to my bare shoulder, along with the hair that is now loose down to my hips, a lump lifting and plummeting in his throat. “Uh. The dresser? It’s not exactly serving a purpose.”
I’m not sure where the warm shiver comes from. Maybe because I’ve never had a man in my bedroom before or maybe because Commander Larsen is undeniably handsome and robust, but suddenly there are hot prickles all the way down my spine. “I-I, yes, I see what you mean. I acknowledge it’s not an ideal barricade.”
“Furthermore, this might slow me down if I need to reach you.” He shoves the dresser two feet to the right, away from the door. “We don’t want that.”
“No.”
He shakes his head at me. “Did you steal that nightgown from a Victorian schoolmarm or something?”
“Did I…what?” I cross my arms over my middle. “This was a gift from the Grand Duke of Luxembourg.”
His brows slash downward. “Why is a duke buying you a nightgown?”
“It is a little creepy, isn’t it?” I breathe, battling a smile.
For a very brief bubble of time, the commander looks like he’s about to laugh, but the moment pops and vanishes before it starts. “Don’t put furniture in front of the door,” he snaps. Then, slightly less harsh, “Nothing gets through me. Not bullets, not acts of nature, not shrapnel or blades. I’m a wall between you and danger. You can sleep soundly.” I must look doubtful, because he raises an eyebrow. “What?”
“Maybe you should let the intruders in, commander,” I whisper, dramatically. “If I die, you can go home.”
A line pops in his jaw. “Is that supposed to be funny?”
I’m suddenly so exhausted with his animosity, I take a few steps and plonk my butt down on the edge of the bed, my limbs hanging loose at my sides. “Would you mind terribly if I just go to sleep?”
Oddly enough, he now appears like he wants to stay. Or maybe he regrets being so harsh, now that I’ve been drained of my energy. He rakes a frustrated hand through his hair, opens his mouth to say something, but stomps out before his words ever materialize.
I stare at the rattling door a moment, then do what I do every night since the incident. I take out my dagger from beneath my pillow, wrap myself in a blanket and go to sleep in the closet.
four
. . .
Conrad
There is no reason for me to feel like this much of a bastard.
Joking around or having conversations with my charge is not in the job description. Neither is spending any significant amount of time in her bedroom. I only went in there because it baffled me that she would be moving furniture at such an odd hour and I wanted to know why. I didn’t expect to be so fucking impacted by the sight of her in a nightgown.