Page 21 of The Betrothal

“I got caught in the storm. I couldn’t make it to town.”

Nice, Isabelle. I congratulated myself. He thinks you’re from the town.

“And I needed shelter. And the back door was open.”

A sigh was the only response he offered.

“I only used some of the wood, I can pay you for it. I’m leaving. Right now.” Yep, that was it, I needed to get out of here, right this moment.

Spinning to collect the duffel to the side of the fireplace, I shoved the clothes back into it, the haphazard packing taking up way too much space. I fisted the cash laid on the hearth urgently into the side pocket. If he lived in a place like this, he wouldn’t be short of cash, but still, I needed it and I couldn’t afford to be robbed.

Afford. Hilarious, Iz.

Slowing momentarily as I picked up the layers I wore yesterday, I couldn’t change here. I’d have to put them on over what I wore, the discomfort of too many layers would be an improvement on the discomfort of this stranger’s disapproval.

The irritation radiating off him was thicker than the snowstorm yesterday, and I’d choose to take my chances outside as a preference to being in here.

Should I ask for help? The thought left me as quickly as it arrived. I could trust no-one if I couldn’t be absolutely sure they wouldn’t immediately return me to my family, and Teddy.

“Alex. What’s this?” The voice wasn’t from the hulking gargoyle on the kitchen table.

“An unwelcome guest, Benjamin.”

The door I originally entered by closed. Before it stood a tall man. Sunglasses covered his eyes, but I could see a shock of ruffled ash-blond hair and fair skin soft in the sunlight, contrasting against the deep black hoodie he wore.

The light from the windows cast across his face, he was in his twenties, maybe, fair stubble grew across the chiselled angles of his jaw.

He glowed, everything about him almost angelic.

“Did you leave the back door unlocked?” The growl from the man the newcomer called Alex interrupted my thoughts and I turned my attention back to the shadowed threat.

The man in the doorway, the one called Benjamin, shrugged at the question before posing one of his own.

“Why is she wearing alien pyjamas?”

“Perhaps because she made herself comfortable in our home believing no-one was here.” The accusation landed and I felt myself shrink back even further.

“But she’s alone?” Benjamin queried.

“Yes, Ben, she is alone.” Alex’s tone softened marginally.

“That’s not good.” He stomped his feet before bending and removing his shoes, something the other man hadn’t done, the snow turning to water on his boots and dripping on the floor quietly.

“She’s apologised. And she is leaving,” I murmured, loud enough for them to hear, but not wanting to really garner too much more attention from them.

“That won’t be possible.” Benjamin didn’t stop what he was doing, straightening the laces of his work boots then crossing into the living room where I stood.

He paused briefly as he drew closer, shifting marginally before slowly adjusting course to arc around me creating extra space.

“Uh, why is that?” I kept my body facing Alex, turning my face to watch as Ben placed the boots carefully by the fire, selecting a log and placing it in the hearth before straightening.

“The storm hasn’t broken. When it does, the drifts will be over four feet high. Since you have seemingly arrived on foot, you won’t be able to walk to town until it clears.”

He skirted back around the space towards the kitchen, collecting a large towel from a cupboard and laying it under Alex’s feet.

“That’s not possible,” I gasped. It couldn’t be.

Momentarily forgetting the man on the table I spun, pulled back the curtains by the sofas and threw my hand over my mouth, unfortunately too late to catch the groan.