Page 121 of The Betrothal

Slowly, it came back to me.

The pub. The men. The van.

“Oh, no,” I whispered.

Something in the room rustled and my muscles locked up in fear.

My eyes opened fully, dry and sore from what was not a sleep, they adjusted to the room at a pace that had me coiled with anticipation and dread.

A form came into focus, half hidden in the depth of the room.

The dark green bedroom that had once been mine, many, many years ago. In my parents’ home.

The shape in the armchair, however, was not my father. Too tall, too lithe. It was definitely a man, and my drug-addled brain began to understand just who it was.

“It’s been an entire month, Isabelle,” Teddy snarled from his shadow-shrouded villain-chair.

I listened carefully to his tone, cold and judgemental. Teddy was furious.

“What do you have to say for yourself?”

I gathered the blankets, pulling them up over my body in an attempt to protect myself from his wrath.

“Nothing?” he continued, the ice in his voice hardening.

When I didn’t speak he leaned forwards, clicking on a tall lamp beside him, he came into focus. His shirt was creased, a tie lay over the arm of the chair, his normally perfectly coiffed hair now finger-raked and messy.

This Teddy was not composed.

“How dare you!” he snapped.

His fingers gripped the leather of the armchair, the fabric creaking under the force of his hold.

“Say something!” he screamed.

I recoiled as if I’d been slapped, searching for my voice.

“I don’t know what to say.” My voice was rasping.

“You don’t want to offer your fiancé any explanation?” He’d quietened again but was no less threatening. “Don’t want to try to claim that you were abducted? Held against your will? No attempt to convince me you didn’t embarrass me by running away.”

I weighed my words carefully. “Would you believe me if I did?”

He snorted. “I will never believe another word you say.”

“Then I won’t waste your time by lying to you,” I replied.

He scoffed.

“Why are you here, Teddy?” I asked. “If I’m such an embarrassment then why not use the opportunity to call off the engagement?”

“I came straight here the moment I was informed they had you. I’ve not left since,” he mused. “Plus, you must be joking? I wouldn’t call off anything. I wouldn’t want to waste the opportunity to continue with our little battle of wills.”

His amusement grew at my look of shock.

“It started with your studies. I could tell you were getting cold feet and when you started dragging it all out I found it entertaining, then adorable. Little did you know that my tolerance of your antics won me more favour with my political critics.”

I felt the heat of tears beginning to build at his admission.