Page 3

CHAPTER THREE

“M elora! Nerissa! Get in here, you worthless girls!”

Melora stiffened at her father’s biting voice and dropped the laundry she’d been washing. Her eyes met her sister’s. Papa was home early, and he sounded drunk. Arriving home early always meant trouble; it likely meant he was out of funds and even angrier than usual. Melora reached out a damp hand to grasp Nerissa’s arm, shaking her head. “I’ll deal with Papa. You stay here.” She would keep her little sister out of danger as much as possible.

Nerissa chewed her lower lip in concern. “I don’t know, Mel. He sounds furious.”

“That’s precisely why you must remain. We can only hope he didn’t go into debt. I need you to finish the laundry so we’ll have enough provisions for the next few days. I’ll take care of things with Papa. If I give him a bite to eat, hopefully, he’ll fall asleep.”

Nerissa’s dark features looked wary, but she nodded her agreement, wordlessly taking the washing from Melora. While they needed the funds that taking in laundry provided, they couldn’t possibly allow Papa to find out. He would be livid. Though he used every drachma he earned on his gambling or drinking, he refused to allow his daughters to do anything so demeaning as work. He insisted they project the facade of perfection. So long as no one knew their true circumstances, all was well.

Melora’s mind frantically prepared for the numerous scenarios she could encounter once she entered the house.

Papa glared as she entered, his dark eyes cold, his lips compressed in displeasure. His thick finger jabbed into her chest. “It’s time you earned your keep, girl. You’re eighteen now and soon to be someone else’s problem.”

She tried not to flinch at his words. Without her, they would have no food to eat and no place to stay, but she knew better than to mention such things.

“Go to town and purchase some food. The cupboards are bare. While you’re at it, be sure to flutter those big eyes at Sir Calix. He asked about you again. I plan to make the most out of the union.”

She did her best to keep her expression clear while her insides roiled with disgust. Sir Calix was a pompous and cruel man. Just thinking about him made her skin crawl.

As she approached her eighteenth birthday, Papa had become obsessed with auctioning her off to the highest bidder. “After all,” he would say, “Your beauty has to be good for something, especially after how much it has cost me to raise you and your sister.” While Melora tried to remain unaffected by his words, they still cut. It seemed that her beauty was all she was ever good for. She had spent many long hours working out how she mightescape the impending engagement.

She would soon have enough saved up to put her plan into action and leave for Sovia with her sister while she still could, and perhaps from there they could leave Valkovia altogether, travel through the Mistral Pass, and find a safe place to live in the mountains. She’d almost saved enough months ago, but then she’d had to spend it all on medicine when Nerissa fell ill. But this time, there’d be no stopping her. Nerissa might only be sixteen, but she couldn't be sure that Papa would wait before pushing her younger sister toward the same fate. Either way, she refused to leave Nerissa alone with Papa. There was no telling what would happen to her.

For now, Melora served Papa some food and quickly left to do his bidding without asking for funds. She didn’t want to upset him any further.

As she hurried into town, she covered her dark wavy hair with a handkerchief despite the heat of the day. She hoped to disguise herself as much as possible from Sir Calix. If Papa thought to ask, she’d tell him that Sir Calix hadn’t been in town. She calculated it in her head: with another week or so of washing, she should have scraped together just barely enough to secure lodging for herself and her sister. Then they were leaving. The plan wasn’t as good as before, but she no longer had the luxury of time.

Unfortunately, Sir Calix was waiting for her. He spotted her almost as soon as she entered town and sauntered toward her, a smirk dancing upon his lips.

“What is this?” He asked, tugging at her kerchief. “Trying to hide that glorious hair from all your other suitors?” His fingers stroked her hair as they slid down the kerchief. She pulled away from his touch. He chuckled and sidled closer, his eyes bright. While many women thought his powerful form and suave ways attractive, Melora despised his slimy charm and wished to escape posthaste. The other women could have him. She wanted someone who would respect her.

He folded his arms in a way that accentuated his large muscles. “Miss Melora, it’s always such a delight to see your beautiful face. When your father said you’d be in town, I knew you simply couldn’t resist me.”

“I think you misunderstood. You see, I’m quite busy.” She turned briskly away from him and began walking toward the mercantile, not bothering to hide her scowl. She should have anticipated her father planning something like this.

Not missing a beat, he hurried to walk beside her, slinging an arm around her shoulder. “What’s the rush, my dear? Such a lovely lady as yourself should never hurry anywhere.”

“Well then, it’s a good thing I’m not a lady. Some of us don’t have time for distractions. We have work to do.” She shrugged his arm off and picked up her pace.

Sir Calix smirked. “I know you find me quite the distraction, my dear—all the women do.” He seemed to puff out his chest as his steps hastened to keep up with hers.

She held in a laugh at his ridiculousness, not wanting to give him the wrong idea.

“As my wife, you won't need to concern yourself with manly work. No need to waste your beauty.”

She bristled. “I’m not anyone’s wife.”

“Not yet. But don’t worry, I have an offer your father cannot refuse. Soon you’ll be mine in every way.”

She hoped not. She shivered and wrapped her arms around herself, but Sir Calix wasn’t finished.

“If I had my way, we would have been married months ago, but your father is being difficult.”

For once, she was grateful for her father’s stubbornness. He was asking for an outlandish price for her hand in marriage, claiming that her exquisite beauty was a dowry in itself, and any man would consider himself fortunate to pay for the privilege of marrying her. Melora had hoped this would keep the men away. Who would choose to pay for a wife when they could have a perfectly good woman with a dowry? Except, Papa had somehow enticed several men to make offers for her hand. And even more ridiculous, he had pitted them against each other, driving up the price. As the wealthiest of the prospective suitors, Sir Calix was the most determined. Unfortunately, little deterred him when he decided he wanted something.

She cringed; just thinking about it made her feel used and slimy. Marriage was supposed to be about love and creating a life together—but then such fancies were only for those who could afford it.

She picked up her pace as she neared the mercantile. Instead of taking her hint, Sir Calix easily caught up to her, grabbed her arm, and tugged her against his hard chest. She squirmed, trying to break his vise-like grip. “Papa wanted me to purchase some items. You know how he hates waiting.”

“Don’t worry, my dear. I already spoke to him. Metis promised me that we could take as long as we wish.”

The spark in his eyes made her stomach clench in fear as her heart tried to leap out of her chest. Turning her head sideways, she pushed at his chest, unable to escape. As she struggled, a glint of something bright caught her attention; a man dressed entirely in gold. His attire gleamed in the evening sun. As their eyes met, she widened hers desperately, though she wasn’t quite sure if the vision before her was real. She’d never encountered such finery before.

Sir Calix leaned far too close, his acrid breath hot against her ear. “I was hoping you’d accompany me to my home for a bit. I have much to show you.”

The blood drained from her face.

“Is this man bothering you, ma’am?” The rich voice sent shivers down her spine as the man in gold stepped closer, his long, open jerkin flowing elegantly around him. She longed to confirm that Sir Calix was indeed bothering her, but her mouth had become as dry as the desert sand.

“Of course not.” Sir Calix jumped in, “Not that it’s any of your business, but I was headed to dinner with my fiancée .” He gripped her arm and pulled her toward a nearby tavern.

The mysterious man narrowed his eyes as Melora looked back at him, her eyes locked on his strikingly blue gaze. Her breath caught as something seemed to pass between them. It was as if she could see into his soul, which was as beautiful as the man himself… but how could she know that? He struck an imposing figure with his broad shoulders, his black skin glowing against his fine golden attire. And still, she couldn’t seem to form any words, inadvertently letting Sir Calix drag her away. At least he was only taking her to the tavern, she thought, grateful the attractive man had spared her from whatever Sir Calix had planned at his home.

* * *

D inner dragged on interminably as Sir Calix droned on and on. “And then I shot the wild boar right between the eyes while even my hounds cowered in fear.” He loved nothing more than talking about himself and his many exaggerated accomplishments.

Melora restrained several eye rolls as she wondered how soon she could escape. She ate her food as quickly as politeness would allow, then stood and curtsied. “Thank you for dinner, sir. Now I’m afraid I must depart. I must finish my tasks before the mercantile closes.”

Sir Calix launched out of his chair and stepped in front of her, beer still gripped in his hand. “Now wait one moment, Miss Melora!” He took a lumbering step toward her and wrapped his free hand around her waist, backing her against the wall. “I purchased you dinner, now you owe me.”

Her heart stilled, then beat double time as her eyes darted around, seeking help. Where was the man in gold when she needed him? No one else seemed to notice them tucked away in the corner. How had she failed to notice how secluded their seating was?

She would just have to take matters into her own hands, as usual. With the beer still gripped in his hand, he only had one available hand…

“Now come, my dear, it’s time—” He jabbed the hand holding his drink toward her, forgetting he held it. The cold, foul-smelling drink sloshed down her front. She gasped. Of her three dresses, this was her second best, but it was likely ruined. The smell would be virtually impossible to scrub out, as she well knew, having washed similar stains for her customers far too often.

Sir Calix merely laughed and set his mug unsteadily down on the table, having no care for how his thoughtless actions might have affected her. He pulled out a handkerchief and tried to wipe at her chest. “Don’t be shy. We'll be married soon, after all.” The gleam in his eye had her stomach in knots. He was looking for any excuse to touch her.

Cheeks flaming, she warded off his hands and ripped the handkerchief from them. “I’ve got it!” She did her best to soak up the liquid. It made little difference. Curse this pale-colored dress!

He leered at her and leaned close, pressing his hand against the wall above her, keeping her trapped. “Don’t worry about it. You are welcome to come to my house and change.”

“No!” She crossed her arms against her chest, doing her best to cover up. “I don’t need your help. I have to go now.” Again, she tried to push away, no longer caring about her damp dress or anything but escape.

“Oh no, we had a deal.” He clamped his arm tightly around her waist.

“I didn’t agree to any deal.” She shoved against his arm, desperate to break free.

A large man in fine attire unexpectedly tapped Sir Calix on the shoulder, startling him. “I believe the lady asked to leave.”

An uneasy breath rattled out of Melora’s lips.

Puffing up, Sir Calix squared off with the stranger, glaring. “Mind your own business. She’s my fiancée. I’ll do with her as I wish!”

The man’s jaw twitched under his blonde stubble. “I apologize. I neglected to introduce myself. Lord Rafe of Lykos.” He gave a perfunctory bow.

Melora started even as Sir Calix paled. The arrogant squire had somehow found himself at odds with the lord of the land.

“Now if you’ll kindly release the lady, I shall escort her wherever she wishes to go.” Lord Rafe extended a hand to her, and Sir Calix couldn’t say anything as she finally broke free from him and gripped the lord’s hand like a lifeline. Though she had never met the allegedly shy aristocrat, his face seemed as kind as the rumors suggested, and his gallant actions only reinforced that impression.

“I owe you my profound thanks,” she said once they were far enough away from Sir Calix.

He kept his eyes averted but nodded his head.

“I’m Melora, by the way.” It was odd, but she wished she were introducing herself to another rescuer… She shook the golden man’s image from her mind. It was ridiculous—she knew nothing about that stranger. He hadn’t even saved her from Sir Calix, but there was something about his eyes… something about him that called to her like no man she’d ever known.

“A pleasure, my lady.” Lord Rafe finally looked her way as he bowed appropriately. Then he grimaced as he took in her damp dress. “Perhaps I ought to get you a new dress. I’m afraid that one… is quite ruined.”

He glanced away and cleared his throat. “I’m sorry that such an incident took place in my land. I feel somehow responsible.” He shook his head, muttering as if to himself, “I should have him kicked out of the kingdom for what he did to you.”

“Oh no, it’s not a problem. Please, I don’t want to be any trouble.” The mere thought of what her father would do if he found out she’d gotten Sir Calix banished sent a chill down her spine.

He studied her for a long moment, then nodded. “Very well. It is probably for the best. Where to, my lady?”

She smiled. “I’m afraid I’m no proper lady, but here at the mercantile should be fine.”

He bowed crisply and watched her hurry inside.

* * *

T he trip to the mercantile was quick but awkward. She could do little to cover her damp gown and had no funds to purchase something as frivolous as fabric for a new one. So, she did what she always did in such situations. She held her head high and ignored the judgmental looks tossed her way while she waited for her order.

Once outside, she released a deep sigh—as if exhaling her burdens upon a breath—until she noticed Sir Calix waiting impatiently for her on a bench near the mercantile. She glanced away and hastened her steps. Why wouldn’t the man just leave?

“Melora!” he called after her.

A small groan escaped her lips as he caught up to her. If only he would use his persistence on more important things like… taking care of the poor. Why did he have to be such a creep?!

“You needn’t worry. I’m not angry with you. Though I am miffed at how you left me in the tavern. Leaving with another man was hurtful. However, I’m willing to put that all behind us.”

She paused to stare at him, unable to believe the sheer audacity of his words. “No, Sir Calix. We are finished, good day.” Spinning on her heel, she began storming off once more. A figure suddenly appeared in front of her. She gasped and stumbled, nearly colliding with the man in gold.

“Don’t touch me!” he bellowed, darting out of her way, his silken jerkin flowing behind him.

She cried out as she tripped, all of her goods tumbling upon the ground along with her.

But instead of helping her collect the items now littering the ground, the golden man cursed and dodged her purchases as they rolled near him—as if touching her things was somehow beneath him.

She scowled. Could this day get any worse? He had seemed so dashing before, but she was obviously mistaken. He hadn’t actually done anything for her anyway, but then, she hadn’t exactly asked for help. Did she really have to request help, considering he was at fault for her supplies spilling on the ground in the first place? Hopefully, nothing was damaged.

“What are you doing here?” Sir Calix said to the man. He folded his arms and puffed out his chest to its best advantage. “I already told you that Melora is my fiancée!” Then he turned his hard eyes toward her as she rushed to gather her things between the men. “Melora, have you been unfaithful with this man?”

She grabbed an apple, tempted to hurl it at one or both men, but she refrained, tucking it back into her bag before glaring up at him. “Of course not. Not that it matters. As I told you before, we are not engaged.”

Sir Calix’s pale face turned bright red.

The golden man stepped casually between her and Sir Calix. “Do you wish to be with this man?” he asked, his voice gentle.

“No.”

He gave a curt nod before turning. His strong angular jaw twitched, his fingers curled into fists as he stood before Sir Calix, tall and imposing, his muscles tense and ready for action. “I believe it’s time you leave. Regardless of her apparent status, the lovely lady does not wish to be with you.”

Melora looked up at him in shock, slowly climbing to her feet and dusting off her skirts. Was this truly happening? After his earlier actions, she’d been certain he would leave her and this awkward situation as fast as he had darted from her spilled groceries. Instead, he was defending her. Few men in her life had ever defended her, especially a man as wealthy as this one appeared to be.

“Get out of my way! She is mine!”

The golden man stepped deftly back before Sir Calix could shove him.

“Leave! Unless you are willing to pay…” The double meaning behind his words twisted Melora’s stomach, making her feel sick. She knew the price her father had been asking for her and that Sir Calix was eager to pay.

A growl, followed by the metallic clang of a sword being unsheathed, cut through the air. The sun glinted off a sword as golden as the man’s clothing. “I believe you are the one who should leave, unless you want to feel the bite of this sword. No lady should be treated in such a manner.”

“Styx!” Sir Calix cursed. “I didn’t do anything to you. Just who do you think you are?”

“Hurry, I’m losing my patience.” His nostrils flared as he continued to glare, sword at the ready.

Sir Calix swore again and raised his hands in the air, then backed away. “Calm down, I’m leaving. Not that it’s any of your business.” Once he was safely away, he pointed to Melora and said, “I’ll be speaking to your father about this. Soon he will agree to my terms and no…” he looked the golden man up and down and spat his next words, “no— peacock —can take you away from me.” With that threat hanging in the air, he turned and scurried away, his movement just slow enough not to be considered a flat-out run.

With a hand pressed against her thrashing heart, Melora released the breath trapped in her lungs. The soft shing of his sword sliding into his scabbard brought her attention back to the man who had chased off Sir Calix. Just who was he? She couldn’t quite believe what had happened. It all seemed like a strange dream—a dream she never wanted to wake from. “Thank you.” Further words failed her.

“Are you all right, my lady?”

She nodded, feeling suddenly shy. The wind blew against her still damp dress. She shivered and crossed her hands over her chest. Blast ! She had nearly forgotten about the ruined material. Heat crept up her neck and face. She hoped that her coppery-brown skin was dark enough to hide the intense blush. This man was seeing her at her absolute worst. “I think so, thanks to you. I don’t know what I would have done had you not arrived. I might’ve… I might have clocked him in the head with an apple. It would have been a waste of a perfectly good apple. Such a lovely fruit doesn’t deserve such a fate.”

A grin spread across his face, making her heart pound. “Thankfully the apple was mostly spared. I apologize for knocking your things to the ground.”

She glanced back at the ground where she had fallen, unsure if she could meet his eyes. A warm heaviness engulfed her as the man draped his long golden jerkin over her shoulders. Her eyes widened and she tried to ignore the alluring scent permeating the garment. “Oh no, I couldn’t possibly.” She shifted to take it off, her eyes flicking up at his stunning blue ones once more.

“Please, keep it.” He held up a hand. “You need it more than me.” He gestured toward her dress, then looked away.

“Ug, I must look quite the sight right now… and smell like an ale house.” She wrinkled her nose.

“You look quite lovely. I think my jerkin looks better on you than me.”

“Oh.” The heat already warming her face intensified. What must he think of her? She wasn’t the kind of woman to take favors from strange men. But then what choice did she have? It was either wear this expensive jerkin or face the world in a see-through beer-soaked gown. She slid her arms into the sleeveless garment and wrapped it firmly around her front. Would the humiliation of this day never end?

The fabric felt just as fine as she’d anticipated. Her eyes fluttered closed as she subtly inhaled the spicy scent with musky undertones—she could get lost in such a scent. She peered up at her rescuer. The fear that had been knotting her stomach turned into a cacophony of butterflies. Why did he have to be so handsome? It almost made her embarrassment worse.

While Lord Rafe had been attractive enough with his pink-beige skin and his perfectly coiffed blonde hair, the man before her made her insides tremble and her knees go weak. Tightly cropped black hair revealed his perfectly chiseled jaw and intense features; his blue eyes, contrasting with his rich black skin, were most striking, glowing like stars in the night sky. And the contrast of the golden attire against his skin made it all the more stunning as his silken tunic pressed against the muscles of his arms, a subtle pattern shimmering upon the fine fabric.

“Such an enchanting woman should not be walking alone. May I escort you?”

“Yes, I’d like that.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, suddenly worried that it, too, was a mess. That would be just her luck.

After such gallant actions, she expected him to offer to carry her things and perhaps offer her his arm as well. But he did none of those things. Instead, he watched as she struggled to lift the two hefty bags, one over each shoulder.

“Are you certain you have everything? That looks quite heavy.”

It was. She pursed her lips, doing her best to keep her voice even under the weight. “Yes, I’m ready.” Again, she waited for the proffered hand that never came. What was wrong with him? She took matters into her own hands, taking a step toward him. “Are you planning to escort me?” She raised a brow, her eyes flickering toward his arm in question.

“Yes, of course. I’m always happy to escort a beautiful woman.” His eyes sparked as he patted his pockets. “I’m afraid that I cannot hold your hand properly, but perhaps this will do.” Even the handkerchief he tugged from his pocket was golden—of course it was. She nearly rolled her eyes. Why was everything about this man gold? There was no need to flaunt his wealth in such a manner.

He dangled the handkerchief toward her. “There you are. I cannot touch you, but you may safely grasp this.”

She raised her brows. Was he quite serious? So now it was beneath him to even touch her? Her heart pricked. How dare he! She was through with this man and this entire day. Ignoring his fancy handkerchief, she twisted away and began marching purposefully toward her home.

“Wait! I apologize. I was only trying to be gentlemanly.”

“Gentlemanly?!” she nearly exploded, spinning back toward him. “I don’t know who you are or where you are from. But where I’m from, men do not offer women a handkerchief so they don’t get sullied by touching her! I may not be as wealthy as you, but I deserve to be treated with respect!” Having said her piece, she turned back around, the jerkin flaring dramatically behind her as she continued on her way.The hurt she was feeling at his thoughtless words assuaged any former guilt she’d had about accepting the fine garment.

It looks like I won’t be needing an escort after all, she thought.