Nightshade paused. “I'm not hungry.”
Francis scoffed and pushed a stray strand of gray hair back from her face. “I don't care if you're hungry or not. You're going to eat.” And with that she turned and marched back down the stairs, leaving them to gape.
Merc chuckled. “Sounds like you've got your orders.”
“You mean we haveourorders, right?” Caroline lifted her chin and kept moving down the hall, leaving him to admire the graceful sway of her hips. Those high-waisted black trousers were a sight he knew he'd never forget.
She started down the stairs with long strides and he stayed behind her, but not too close. The connection between them was undeniable. He’d never felt anything like it before or was even aware such a thing existed, until now. “She's just worried about you, you know?”
The stiff set to Caroline’s shoulders relaxed a little. “I know. I'm not mad at her, I’m just not used to being force fed.”
“But at least you have someone like her who cares about you. Not everyone does.” He’d never known love or affection and never really missed it before now.
They stepped off the staircase into the empty foyer. She turned and craned her neck to look up at him. “What about your family?”
“Don't have any,” Merc answered honestly.
“So you were an orphan?” He liked that her question wasn't tinged with pity, just curiosity and something else.
Was it affection?
“I guess so. After I turned up in that battlefield not knowing my past, no one ever came looking for me. At least, not that I know of. Mr. J could've told them I died in battle along with my team.”
Caroline blanched and grabbed on to the railing. “Do you really think he's capable of doing that?”
Merc’s muscles locked down tight the same way they did every time he thought about Mr. J and the things the man had done to him. “Absolutely.”
The air practically crackled between them. Merc didn't stop the waves of anger that rolled off of him for his former mentor. He’d never really concerned himself with the hate seething inside him until Caroline averted her face as if looking for a way out of the conversation.
He would have to try not to talk about the man anymore. After all, he'd traumatized Caroline too, hadn't he? Every time that Merc brought up Mr. J was just another reminder about her ordeal.
Caroline turned slightly to the left, her sleeveless top shifting with her, revealing her still-healing gunshot wound. Bastard.
But Merc was a bastard right along with him. Here he’d stood, telling her how much he hated Mr. J, stabbing her open wound with a dull knife. Did she have nightmares? He knew some soldiers who did and could only imagine what an innocent woman like Caroline must be going through. “Caroline, I'm sorry. I know this has got to be hard on you. I'll try not to talk about him anymore, okay?”
He was relieved when she softened and a smile played about her lips. “Okay, deal. But we’ve still got to talk about this whole bodyguard situation.”
He sidled up closer and was rewarded with her fresh scent. “Agreed, and I don’t think we need to involve your father. Why don’t you tell me what you’re thinking?”
“I'm not about to have someone trailing my every move in my own home. I've been held prisoner long enough and I refuse to resume that status.”
“Like I said before, you won't even know I'm around most of the time.” And she wouldn't. Despite his large frame, he’d mastered the ability to melt into the shadows and blend into the background. Plus, he had every intention of planting a GPS device on her, just in case.
Last night and this morning, Merc had carefully combed through the entire house, learning every single entry and exit point, and realizing its many weaknesses. Weaknesses Mr. J could easily exploit. Even with TF-S roaming the grounds and the extra security detail, Merc trusted no one else with Caroline's life.
“Miss Caroline, lunch.” Francis poked her head out of the swinging white door to the left. “Merc, you too.”
The woman’s tall thin frame reminded him of a dressed up scarecrow, but her tenacious attention to Caroline made him like her. “Yes, ma'am.”
“I found a few of your teammates wandering around too, big fella. They're going to eat everything I cook if you two don't get in there now.”
Merc held out an arm, indicating the swinging door. “She’s right, they will.”
Caroline brushed past him, her small size making him feel like a lumbering giant about to crush her. It made him feel the urge to protect, and the urge to take her into his arms and kiss her again.
Forcing his mind away from those thoughts, he led Caroline into a medium-sized room with a long polished wood table and thick heavy wooden chairs that wouldn't crack under his weight. He liked the room instantly.
Everything else in this house seemed to be 17th century antiques made for people half his size, so that Merc was scared to sit down anywhere other than the heavy leather furniture in Cotter’s study.
