“You don’t come to my establishment to know. You come to eat—or starve. It’s up to you.”
Owen frowned. “That hardly seems hospitable.”
Even James, who didn’t know the woman, could tell that the reply was unwise. Like a pot left too long on the fire, she blew her lid.
“Hospitable?” she exploded. “I’ll show you hospitable. No pie for you!”
She snatched the half-filled plate and slammed it back on her tray. The rest of the pie and vegetables followed. The curtain flapped angrily behind her.
Ethan spoke first. “I warned you not to annoy her, lad.”
“I didn’t do anything,” Owen protested. “I just asked what kind of pie it was!”
Ethan shoveled a forkful into his mouth. “A delicious pie, that’s what. Best I’ve ever tasted.”
Grabbing a fork, Owen aimed for Ethan’s plate. “Give me some of that.”
Ethan kept his plate out of reach.
“Sorry, lad,” he said with a smirk. “Ad finem fidelis has its limits. When it comes to pie, it’s each man for himself.”
Chapter Sixteen
She was running…running as fast as she could.
The forest floor was dewy beneath her feet, the night fog weaving thickly between the trees. Even with her lantern, she could only see a few inches ahead. Yet she wasn’t afraid of the woods. For the monster didn’t live in nature’s labyrinth but in the lavish manor ablaze with light.
Why, oh why, did I take this position?
She cursed her stupidity and her arrogance. She ought to have listened to her mama, who’d warned her that no good would come from putting down roots. Her folk had traveled for generations, yet in her conceit, she’d believed that she could do better. That she was meant for more than the simple life her family led.
Shame choked her and shaped her breath into sobs. Because of her mistake, she had no one now. She was shunned and disgraced and so very alone. The fog drifted, and through the veil of tears, she saw a web of moonlight draped across an entrance…a shelter in the woods. A place where she would, at least temporarily, be safe.
Right now, the monster would be climbing the steps to her attic quarters. Night after night, trembling in her cot, she’d listened to the menacing thump of his boots. She’d screamed the first few times—loud enough to wake the dead. Yet no one came to her aid. When she’d summoned the courage to tell the lady of the house, she’d received a beating for her trouble.
Shut your gob, you troublemaking slut, Mistress had hissed. My husband is an important man of the highest standing. If you dare to slander him again, he will see to it that you pay…you and that stinking, no-good, peddling family of yours.
She had no choice but to run. One day, when she’d saved enough, she would get farther than the forest. She would run and run and run…so far that the monster couldn’t find her.
When will I ever be free?
For now, she would hide in this cave. She entered warily, in case this was the refuge of other frightened animals. Raising her lamp, she saw that the snug space was empty…and gasped when she saw a dazzling wall of pearls. Astonished, she went over and touched her fingertips to the glowing spiral embedded in the rock.
Not pearls, she recognized with wonder. These are shells. Hundreds of them.
The circular pattern covered the entire wall, flowing with a continuity that seemed to have no beginning or end. It seemed to move, a line of light twirling against the dark, and it filled her with a strange sense of hope.
Outside, the monster howled. “There is no escape, Rose. You are mine.”
But for now, concealed in her hideaway, she was safe.
Evie shot up with a gasp.
She was alone, in bed at Bottoms House. James must still be out with his brothers; he’d said not to wait up. Bringing her shaking hands to her face, she dashed away the wetness clinging to her cheeks.
A dream. It was a dream. It didn’t really happen.
Yet her heart was thundering because it had felt real. Frighteningly familiar. Even though she hadn’t suffered the same violation as Rose—who must be the Rosalinda of legend—she had known the same fear. The flavor and texture of it coated her tongue, dripped sickly over her insides.
