Authors: Nichole Matthews
Persephone was embarrassed at the memory of him finding h
er lost in one of her nightmares
. She had been
trying
desperately to remember how much she had revealed in her dreaming state
.
Did she give him a name? She pra
yed she was stronger than that.
Even now
she could hear the snap
of the whip before it struck as if it w
ere
happening now and her body froze. The scrape of the key as it turned in the lock of her dark, dank, tiny space
where she was unable to stand, forced
to remain
on hands and knees
,
turned her hands clammy. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath
to still the panic
. She no longer had to endure hours and hours in darkness, pain, and fear.
A wave of shame ran through her
as she remembered all she had done and what all had been done to her
.
She swallowed
back the queasiness that threatened her stomach
at the horrible memories
.
She
didn’t
look up at the sound of footsteps along the gravel path, confident they belonged to
him
.
She couldn’t escape him.
He wouldn’t allow it.
When h
e gazed at her
,
it was
as if he could see into her soul. Impossible, but it frightened her
still
.
Why couldn’t he stay
impersonal?
She watched as the toes of his highly polished boots stopped in
her line of sight
and she
released a heavy
sigh
.
Parker stopped in f
ront of the bench and stared down at
the top of her head
, nearly chuckling when he saw her shoulders rise and fall with her deep sigh
. He
squatted down,
cock
ed
his head
, propped his index finger beneath her chin and tipped her head back a bit so he could capture her gaze completely.
Visible lines of worry surrounded
her eyes
and her white teeth
worried
her bottom lip. A wave of compassion wrapped in something stronger, something that he didn’
t want to name washed over him.
“Do you mind if I sit?” he asked. “
That is, u
nless you prefer to be alone?”
She shook her head, gesturing to the space next to her on the bench
, but he could see her go white
.
He
settled
in the spot she indicated and let a slow, easy smile cross his face.
His smile was devastating, showing
his
deep dimple and crinkling the lines around his eyes.
She sucked in several steadying breaths before she spoke
and was caught by the masculine heat and scent of him.
“Your sister has a beautiful
space for her
butterfly garden.”
She turned her head a little to the side.
She desperately wanted to steer
the topic of conversation to something
safer
. She had no intentions of ever sayin
g the words aloud. She would never admit
to her acts. Never
acknowledge
her grave transgressions.
Especially not to him.
She wanted to stand and move as far away from him as possible. She felt that she was tainting him with her very presence. That by being in such close proximity her vile, evil self would
smother him.
“She calls it her wildflower garden.”
He leaned back and shifted so that he was even closer to her. She didn’t shrink away so that gave him much needed reassurance th
at she wasn’t frightened of him. “I believe she relished its chaotic beauty. She definitely fought against the rules that governed her very existence,
expressly
while in polite society. I think that is why she loved the country much more than being in Town. Why she loved
Rosebriar
.”
“It is
quite lovely.”
She nodded and plastered a weary smile to her face.
Poppy’s wildflower garden did grip her in its passion. She wasn’t quite sure why? Was it the possibility of the vibrant hues that would inundate the small space during the spring and summer? Or could it possibly be the chaos? She couldn’t imagine finding chaos beautiful. Not now. Not after all she had gone through. She relished the rigid peacefulness of rules where she was not required to think, but just act accordingly by the exacting strictures she had been taught as a girl by her governess.
She did not desire to be wild and
free. She couldn’t afford to live a carefree existence any longer.
Parker surprised her by quickly changing the topic of conversation
as if he realized she was growing increasingly agitated by its path
.
“Were you able to sleep the rest of the night?”
He turned to her, staring at her questioningly.
Persephone cringed inwardly while maintaining her smile. She
swallowed hard
,
irritated that he turned the conversation to a topic that was equally uncomfortable and one that she would readily avoid if given the choice
and nodded
. H
er throat too clogged to speak
, a small, subdued smile tugging at h
er
lips.
He studied her for a minute.
“Do you
often have nightmares, Persephone
?”
His resonant voice relaxed her and her
shoulders fell, but s
he didn’t say anything. She was unable
say anything.
“Persephone?” he repeated in a deeper voice
, then waited patiently for her to answer
.
She stared at him with wide eyes
willing him to change
the subject
and
when he just sat there and patiently waited for her to respond, it was
as
if she couldn’t take the silence any longer
and
h
er words
stuttered out
of their own accord
, “I-I-I didn’t have them
before.” And she stopped with no further explanation.
“Before what?” He lifted an eyebrow.
When she didn’t answer he said, “I won’t tolerate lies or half-truths, Persephone. I don’t know what else you expect me to do to prove that I am trustworthy?”
His words gave her pause.
She shook her head and gathered her scattered wits.
The tone of his voice was such that it tugged at her, more than
the words he spoke or the feel of his
hands,
so she
finally whispered,
“M-m-m
y
parents died.”
I’m not going to cry. I’m not going to cry.
She drew a deep breath, her gaze shifted, her lashes lowering over suddenly sad eyes.
He stared at her for a long moment.
“Who
care
d for
you after your parents died, Persephone?”
He covered her tightly clasped hand
s
with his own.
Persephone went still, her blood pumping violently.
She tried to tug her hand away from him, but he held it fast.
“I don’t wish to upset you. I
’
m trying to know you. I
’
m attempting to help you and your daughter.”
His face rigid
and uncompromising.
He
watched her stiffen before she answered,
“My uncle.”
She whispered around the knot in her throat.
She didn’t elaborate
but her voice quavered
.
Unbidden images of the man taunting her flashed in her mind.
She rubbed her hands up and down her arms, wanting to erase the memory of his ruthless grip.
She didn’t want to remember.
She bravely fought back her tears.
He was impressed beyond belief by her i
ndomitable spirit wrapped in a fragile, scarred body.
“Did your uncle harm you, Persephone?”
He could see her eyes glistening with hard fought tears.
She stared at him without blinking
,
her hands clenched into fists
and the vise around her lungs tightened almost stealing her breath.
He watched her closely and saw
the tell-tale
signs of distress and heard her breath hitch at his question.
“R
idiculous. Why would you ask such a thing
?”
Everything was fine. Now.
“Where is your uncle now?” His blue eyes darkened and he looked dark and dangerous and like an avenging warrior sent to rid her of all her demons. Tears filled her eyes and she worked vigorously to will them away.
Parker’s eyes remained locked on hers; his scowl eased to a frown and he
didn’t answer her question, but asked one of his own. “
Then w
ho gave you the scars, Persephone?”
Her eyes shot up.
Oh, God. She had prayed that he hadn’t seen them.
She closed her eyes
and tears squeezed from beneath her closed lids
. Her insides curled up in a tight ball. She couldn’t. She couldn’t say it.
He met her
eyes;
saw so much more than he had even a few minutes before. “Who hurt you,
Persephone?
”
His scowl grew blacker. “Surely you didn’t harm yourself.”
Her face lost what was left of its color and her eye went blank. “I do not know
to what you are alluding
.” The words were stuttered out, utterly unconvincing.
Parker seethed with barely controlled anger. He worked hard at keeping his hands from curling into tightly curled fists.
“Tell me, Persephone.” A command.
E
verything in her shriveled at his command, her lungs constricted until she couldn’t get any air.
She sucked in a painful breath and shut her eyes.
Wheezing, she clutched at her chest and Parker cursed.
He placed his arm around her waist and felt her stiffen at his touch
, which made him mutter a curse
. “Breathe, Persephone
.
Slower.” His deep voice held her, made her listen, and there was air again
. “Breathe.”
He
pause
d
. Then he sighed
, ignoring the way she flinched away and slowly stroked
her hair
.
“It can wait, but you
will
need to tell me sooner or later. I need to know because I cannot be around you and know that someone made you
afraid.
Not
just of me but all men.
They instilled a fear so deep that you flinch whenever I come close.
”
He squeezed her tightly and waited for her to grow comfortable with his touch.
Her eyes widened and t
ears welled up
again w
hen he ignored her silent protests and
his strong arms pulled her tightly to his chest. He cupped the back of her head, his fingers sinking into her hair
, never more grateful that he had lived in a house full of women
then at that moment.
He knew that his words c
ould make a difference
.
“It’s all right. Go ahead and cry. I’ll take care of you.”
He meant it with every fiber of his being. He was surprised at how much.
“I don’t want you to be afraid of me.”
She stiffened
more
and tried to move away from him. Pushing at his chest, but it was sol
i
d muscle, his arms like solid bands of steel around her body
and he w
ould not budge
.
His hand lifted to stroke her hair, the touch gentle. She tried to push away again, but he wouldn’t give. “You’re safe now, Persephone.” He checked his anger for her sake
forcing his erupting emotions back
. She didn’t need to see the fury that raged in his eyes. If he ever found the bastard that did this to her, it would take an entire militia to stop him for killing him.