The Reluctant Heiress

The Assailant

I let out a yelp and stumbled into the long hedge that lined the edge of the lawn. Some of the branches snapped under my weight. Those that didn’t stabbed clean through the dozens of layers I wore, snagged in the material of my coat and held me fast. One particularly adventurous limb tried to twist up in the ends of my hair.

The deep voice, the one that had drifted out of the darkness like some kind of phantom, laughed now. A rolling chuckle that was tinged with an edge of rust. Like the person that it belonged to didn’t laugh very much.

If I hadn’t been fighting my way out of a scratching, overly possessive shrub – cursing my life and my choices like the best of fishwives – I might have found the rumbling sound charming.

I fell stock still, my chest working furiously when the wail of a tearing seam pierced the air. f**k. Probably my backpack.

Definitely my cheap backpack.

A hand appeared in front of my face, fingers slicing through the puffs of condensation that trailed from my mouth. Reaching towards the branch caught in the rat’s nest I called hair.

Snarling, I batted him away.

“Alright, alright,” he laughed again, the sound grating on my ears and nerves. Stepping away from me, he threw his hands up in surrender. “No need to look at me like that. I don’t bite.”

Like what? Like a man who had just snuck up on me in the dark and scared the ever-loving piss out of me?

It didn’t help that he sounded bloody pleased with himself.

“Whatever,” was the best retort I could muster. With a final heave and another series of snaps, I tore myself free from the hedge. Glaring at him from under my lashes, I tugged my shirts and jacket back into place around my hips.

“You shouldn’t be out here, you know.” His thick brogue – lilting and Irish, I guessed – did nothing to hide the snootiness of the statement. Not even the utterly sinful things his voice did to the vowels helped.

He spoke like he thought he was better than me.

What was it with this place?

If his accent wasn’t so different from Ari’s I would have thought he was the absent Harper. Gideon, I think my father said.

Ignoring him, I shrugged off my bag and crouched. No surprise that it was my pack that tore – right along one of the bottom seams. It wasn’t as dire a rip as it had sounded, thank God. I wasn’t likely to lose anything to the forest floor unless it somehow got worse. I’d probably be able to stitch it up when I got my hands on a sewing kit. Fingering the frayed edges thoughtfully, I waited for him to leave.

He didn’t.

Between the lack of moon and him having his back to the glow of the house, it was near impossible to make out his face. I squinted up at him, trying not to look like I was looking through. Was he smirking? Or maybe it was just the smugness I’d heard in his voice.

I couldn’t say for sure.

I frowned a little at the way he was standing: hands thrust deep into his black dress trousers, shoulders relaxed and wide, luminescent in his white shirt, with a slightly c****d hip.

Casual. Confident.

I didn’t need to see his face to know the annoying bugger was handsome as sin.

When I didn’t say anything more, he shrugged. “Madison hates it when the staff are…too out in the open. Says it puts the family off. I’m surprised no one told you.”

Yeah, that sounded just like Elois-

Wait. He hadn’t realised who I was yet…he’d just assumed I was a member of staff. I still had a chance to escape.

He probably thought I was too uncoordinated, too plain to be one of them. I’m not sure why but that pleased me.

I did my best to look sheepish, to hide the obviously designer coat I was wearing.

Surely there was some way I could use this to my advantage. If I could just get him to go back into the house…I’d be free and clear.

“Thanks. I’ll bear that in mind,” I said with an apologetic smile. “I just wanted to familiarise myself with the grounds. I didn’t think anyone would be about at this time.”

“Ah, you’re for the grounds team then?” Was it me or did he sound vaguely disappointed? He heaved a sigh. “Just don’t let anyone else catch you. Madison gets a right bee in his bonnet about this s**t-” I almost giggled at how put out he sounded, his accent growing thick as clotted cream. I managed to contain it, the constant edge of apprehension keeping it down.

The forest was so close…

A shadowed face appeared in front of my eyes. He’d bent at the waist, leaning down towards me. Searching my face for something.

I turned my face down to my bag, pretending to fuss with it.

“You’re lucky it was me out here—” what was he doing out at this time anyway if this Madison person didn’t like it? “When’d you get here? I don’t remember Paul saying anything about a new start.”

Shit.

I was suddenly skating on thin ice.

His smirk had given way to a confused frown. I could hear it in his voice: it clipped down the rolling hills of his r’s to something less musical.

“Oh,” I waved a hand around vaguely, standing and putting my bag back on. He moved with me, standing up too. “You know. Just today.”

Technically that wasn’t a lie.

I swallowed, swearing that I could feel the way his brows knit together above my head.

If I could just get back to the house, I could hide and wait for him to go back inside. “Well, I’ll just head back in before—”

“What did you say your name was again?”

‘I didn’t,’ I wanted to say but I couldn’t come across that defensive. It would only make him ask more questions…every moment I wasted was another that someone could come looking for me.

I’d hesitated too long. He was looking at me, his dark eyes intense in the blackness. Definitely searching my face.

“Jane,” I said with a shrug, trying not to think about the way the hairs were standing up on the back of my neck.

“Uh-huh,” he said, taking a step towards me. He was much broader up close, the width of his shoulders feeling like enough to cage me against the hedge. The cool air around us saturated with the scent of clove and citrus. He smelled like autumn. “That’s a pretty name, Jane.”

Double s**t.

The breeze whips away the smell of him and it’s enough to send me shivering.

“Thank you,” I smiled again, making to dart past him. His hand snapped out, wrapping around my bicep. It wasn’t painful but it was too tight to be friendly. “Let go.” I snapped, all pretence of friendliness falling away.

It was no good though. He was much stronger than me. He held me in place like I was nothing more than an unruly child.

Fuck but he was tall up close. 6’3 maybe? There had to be at least a foot between us; enough to make me feel small and weak. I could see the dark scruff lining his jaw in the glow from the upper windows but I wouldn’t be able to get the right angle to take a pop at him.

“Does it come with a surname?” Voice low, barely a murmur. Smooth. Dangerous.

I was so f****d. Peeping around his shoulder, I looked to the woods. What had seemed close before was now so far, so dark and imposing. If I could make it, how would I even find my way through it? I didn’t have a torch or a phone.

The first thing I was going to buy when I had money was a phone.

He shook me. “Smith,” I said, still trying to shrug him off. But it was half-hearted at best. My heart was thundering in my chest, my eyes trained on the forest.

“Jane Smith.” He rolled the name – my mother’s name – around in his mouth, testing out the sounds. Or tasting for the obvious lie. “Not as pretty a name as Margaux Haw- Oof!”

I kicked him in the shin. Hard.

And then I ran.

I leapt onto the lawn, my feet slipping on the wet grass. But I didn’t slow. I couldn’t. Even if it increased my chances of falling on my face, I had to keep pushing myself – faster and harder.

He shouted behind me but I didn’t hear the words, blood was thumping a primitive war beat on the back of my eardrums. Stop, I begged inside my head, my inner monologue sounding just as breathless as I truly was. Stop, I pleaded. Someone would hear. And then they would all come running.

And I would be dragged back to that beautiful, terrible house.

I kept running even when my lungs burned and every step grew heavier than the last. I pushed back the wall of burning lactase, legs pumping and screaming beneath me. I needed the biggest head start I could get if he was going to tell someone-

Arms wrapped around my middle, winding me and hauling me off the ground. Back against a broad chest that smelled of cloves and citrus.

“Let me go!” Grunting, I snapped my head back. Straight into his face. There was a dull crack. His nose or chin, maybe.

I didn’t care. I thrashed and kicked until I was dizzy with panic and adrenaline. One kick hit him straight blow his kneecap and he buckled, forced to drop me.

“Stop,” he panted.

“No.”

I streaked away from his kneeling form.  The burning was bad now and only grew worse: hotter and tighter until it felt like my steps were tiny. The forest danced in my watery, wind-stung eyes but it never got any closer. God, it was so, so far away.

I would never make it. My legs would give out before then.

No, I had to keep going. I did keep going. Until all I could feel was the screaming and pinching of my overworked muscles. Until I thought I would collapse and die of exhaustion.

Arms came around me again, spinning my tired body until I was thrown over a shoulder. “Let me go, you—”

“No.” He said, his arm tight around my deadened legs.

Everything hurt so bad.

I thumped and pounded on the wide expanse of his back but he didn’t blink an eye. “Give it a rest, will you?” He said tiredly as if I were no more than an annoying gnat. He was barely even breathing hard.

I stopped struggling, slumping over his shoulder as I took a moment to collect my thin breath back together. And my spinning thoughts. It was a bit of a walk back to the house and carrying me – no matter how strong and muscular he was – was sure to slow him down.

Long enough for me to get my wind back and for my legs to loosen? I hoped so.

Not wanting him to get suspicious, I pleaded, “Please don’t take me back.”

“I have to,” he said simply.

I snorted quietly into his back. “Please—”

“Don’t bother, Runner. It’s no good.”

Runner? How original. Still, it was better than Margaux.

He continued, sounding a little worse for wear now, much to my pleasure. “Do you know what your father will do to us- you if he finds out you tried to do a runner?”

Lock me up? Oh, wait. He’d already done that. Look at me with abject disappointment? I was used to that. Maybe he’d get someone to knock me around a little – I doubted he’d dirty his own hands. But after being on the receiving end of Johnathon’s fists, I doubted they could do worse.

The image of Rosier flashed in my mind and my blood ran cold.

No, they wouldn’t get the chance.

I counted three slow and steady breaths, waiting for the moment that my captor’s hands loosened about my legs. The moment they did I jacked my knee up, right into the arch of his cheek. He let me go with a rough, ‘f**k!’ and I rolled off of his shoulder.

Fat load of good that did. My legs wouldn’t obey me and I couldn’t get them under me to soften my landing or to roll to my feet. Instead, I flopped onto my stomach, catching myself by the hands. It was the only thing that stopped me cracking my head on the grass. Still, the thud knocked the wind right out of me and I whimpered.

Shaky armed and sore, I pushed myself back onto my feet.

I didn’t make it so much as a step before my feet were swept out from under me. I clawed at his sleeve, nails catching forearm and I bore us both to the ground.

I rolled away before his full weight could pin me, but he grabbed me by the backpack, panting, “Stop, will you.”

“No, I won’t let you take me back,” I swiped back at him, missing his face.

“I’m trying to tell you something.” He said, dragging me towards him and pushing himself up and on top of me. Pinning me to the grass. I kneed his hip, tried to headbutt his chin but he kept away. “Goddamn it! Stop. Wriggling.”

“No,” I said, choking as the panic rose up my throat.

Don’t make me go back. I can’t go back.

“Look at me,” he commanded gently when he’d grabbed both my wrists and pinned them above my head. He was way too f*****g heavy to move. “Even if you get free, you’re headed the wrong way—” what? “- Maybe if you headed south, you’d get somewhere. I mean, there’s a town about two days walk from here but it’s nothing but a petrol station and a café with the worst coffee you’ve ever tasted—”

“Yes. Thank you,” I groused haughtily, turning my head so that I wouldn’t have to acknowledge his soft, entreating look. I didn’t want his pity. Or his help – if that’s what this was. “If you let me go, I’ll do just that.”

He scoffed. “Stop interrupting me. I’m not about to let you just wander—”

“Let me?” I sneered, turning to scowl up at him.

My breath just about died in my throat, my mouth falling open. He was gorgeous…which was saying something ‘cause he was still shrouded in the murk and silence of the middle of the night. But I could just…tell.

Dark eyes lined with lashes any woman would be envious of. And a full, soft mouth surrounded by a days’ worth of stubble.

“Look, beyond what they’d do to both of us when they found you…” He looked up at the hands he had caging mine, something like worry colouring his eyes. It was a compromising position. If someone found us like this…I shuddered, his next words sinking deep between my vulnerable, quivering muscles. “You’re underprepared. Do you even have a torch?”

No, but I wasn’t about to prove him right

“What about an umbrella? And God knows that you’re shoes aren’t fit for anything.”

“I know!” I yelled around a hoarse voice. Then quieter, “Don’t you think I know that? I’m pretty f*****g aware of how underprepared I am but can you. Just. Shut. Up?”

He stared at me, the hard line of his mouth melting. I continued, throat tight, “I can’t let you talk me out of this. I can’t stay here. I just…”

He let go of my wrists, rolling off of me until we were both lying in the grass.

The stars filled my vision – far more than I’d ever been able to see in the city. They even seemed to shine more brightly, twinkling and merry.

It was beautiful.

“Look, I get—”

I interrupted him before he could finish that lie. “No, you don’t. I won’t let them erase me.”

“I do get it. Trust me, I do,” he said again. I could tell he was looking over at me, but I focused on the stars – wishing I was just as far away. “I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if your body turned up somewhere in that forest. Savaged by wolves or something.”

“By what?” That caught enough of my attention for me to turn and look at him. The grass tickled my cheek.

“Wolves. We’re one of the areas that they’re using for rewilding trials.”

I sat up. “You’re pulling my leg.”

His eyes flicked over me, lingering around my no doubt riotous hair before sweeping down my legs. “While I’m sure your legs are lovely, very pull-able. I wouldn’t lie about this,” He said dryly.

I couldn’t find any trace of a lie in his face. His very handsome face. He frowned, looking up at the sky before speaking. “Even if you made it out of the forest…it wouldn’t matter.”

“What do you mean?”

“The police would be involved the moment anyone realised you were gone. They’d haul you back before you even got a sip of that piss-poor coffee. Kicking and screaming if needed.”

I felt the truth of his words, sinking like a stone to lie in the base of my gut. It was heavier than all my tired limbs put together.

“I’m really stuck here, aren’t I?”

He was too casual when he replied, “’Fraid so.”

Before I could snap back at him, another voice cut me off. “Who's out there?”

He scrambled to his feet, “s**t. Stay down.” Waving, he shouts back to the security guard, “It’s just me, Reynolds.”

“O’Brien?” Came the guard’s relieved reply. “s**t, man. Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

My assailant shrugged apologetically, “Sorry.”

“No problems. You didn’t happen to hear any yelling, did you?”

My heart sped up. They had been able to hear us struggle. I tried to sink even lower into the grass but it was impossible, my backpack an uncomfortable lump beneath me.

“Yelling? Nah,” he shoved his hands back into his pockets. I could see the grass and twigs stuck to the back of his now dirty white shirt. “I did hear some foxes going at it though. Maybe that’s what you heard?”

He covered for me. A sense of wonder swept through me like a hot breeze, something lightening in my stomach.

“Maybe.” The security guard sighed loud enough that we could hear it even from where we were. “You better get inside before someone finds you.”

It was a friendly warning and I had to wonder just how bad this Madison was that he had everyone so uptight.

“I’m just heading in.”

“’Kay. Night, man.”

“Night.”

I waited for a moment before crawling to my feet. “You covered for me,” I said, somewhat disbelieving. 

“Yeah, well,” he said, shifting uncomfortably in the now-bitter breeze. It ruffled the collar of his shirt. “just don’t make me regret it, eh?”

“I thought—” I swallowed, my tongue feeling too big and clumsy for my mouth. “I thought you were dragging me back to my father. But you weren’t, were you?”

He gave me a strange look from below his dark, slashing brows. “No.”

I didn’t know what to say. I- “Thank you.”

Shifting again, “Come on, Runner. Let’s get you back to the house before someone notices you’re gone.”

“Maggie.”

“What?”

I sucked in a breath. “My name is Maggie.”

It felt good to say it, freeing almost.

“Right,” he said, leading me back to the house. I could tell from his voice, the shake of his head that he wasn’t going to use it, but I didn’t care. Him knowing was enough for now.

For now?

I didn’t want to think about that.

We had made it all the way back to the house, and I was halfway up the trellis, before I realised that I didn’t know his name.

“Aren’t you going to tell me your name?” I asked, hanging down towards him, my hair brushing across his shoulder

“Not tonight.” He said. Maybe it was just me or the light, but I was taken back by the wickedness in his smile. His dimpled smile. Reaching out, he plucked a twig from my hair and turned around, “Later, Runner.”