Page 4
“Good morning, Lucien.”
“Hello, Boone.”
His smile widens. “I was just thinking how wonderful it would be if you’d join me for a walk.”
I glance over my shoulder toward the road my father disappeared down only moments ago. I briefly consider whether it’s possible to outrun a man while hiding in the back of a carriage beside a seed planter.
“I really can’t right now, Lucien. I have a lot of work to do.”
His smile falters. My heartbeat picks up.
He makes me nervous.
Not because he’s loud or particularly aggressive. It’s the opposite, really. Everything about him is too practiced. Too deliberate to be mistaken for politeness.
He steps closer. Only a few inches, but enough to make me wish I’d stepped onto the porch while I had the chance.
“What kind of work?”
“The garden needs attention.”
“I’m sure it can wait.”
“It can’t.”
His eyes narrow. The cottage suddenly feels much farther away than it is. I wish my father had waited just a few minutes longer before leaving.
“Well, if it can’t, it can’t,” Lucien says pleasantly.
His smile never changes. That’s why I don’t expect his hands to close around my arms. His fingers dig into my upper arms before I can step away. He drags me forward until my shoulder brushes his chest. The scent of expensive cologne and leather fills my nose as I twist against his grip.
“You know, Boone, you really should consider my offer.”
“Lucien, please.”
I twist my shoulders, trying to break his hold. His fingers tighten.
“You’re hurting me.”
His expression doesn’t change. His eyes remain fixed on mine while his thumbs press harder against my sleeves. There’s no mistaking it anymore. He knows exactly how tightly he’s holding me.
“This little cottage won’t survive another winter.”
The words are delivered so casually that they almost fail to register. Almost.
My gaze shifts toward the house behind him. The roof needs repairs. The porch leans to one side. The shutters haven’t been painted in years. Winter leaves its mark on everything in the mountains.
“This place is falling apart.”
I don’t answer.
“There isn’t enough land to support two people.”
I still don’t answer.
“And your father…”
My chest tightens.
