*Chapter 4: The Colonel’s Proposal*
935 Words
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The carriage that rolled up Bellewood Manor at noon was not subtle. Black lacquered wood. Gold trim. Military crest stamped on the door like a warning.
Richard was in his study when the butler announced, “Colonel Lucien Devereaux to see you, sir.”
Richard stood so fast his chair scraped the floor. Colonel Lucien Devereaux. The man who’d pacified three territories and broken two rebellions. The man whose signature on a paper could move armies.
When Lucien entered, the air changed. Tall. Uniform pressed sharp enough to draw blood. Mustache waxed into perfect points. Eyes that missed nothing.
“Richard Bellewood,” Lucien said, extending a gloved hand. “It’s been years.”
“Colonel.” Richard shook it, grip firm. “To what do I owe this honor?”
Lucien walked to the window, surveying the land like he was already counting it. “Honor? I’d call it duty. Man to man. Military to military.” He turned. “I hear things, Richard. About the frontier. About... instability.”
Richard’s shoulders tightened. “The frontier’s always unstable, Colonel. That’s why we build fences.”
“Fences.” Lucien chuckled. “Yes. Fences. Control. Order.” He paused. “Speaking of which. I hear you have a daughter.”
Richard went still. He’d walked right into it.
“I do,” he said carefully. “Amara. She’s twenty. As of a few days ago.”
“Twenty,” Lucien repeated, tasting the word. “A woman grown. And what kind of woman is she, Richard? The gossip in town is... colorful.”
Richard sighed. He should’ve seen this coming. “She’s strong-willed. Too strong for her own good, sometimes. She runs wild, Colonel. Swims in creeks. Runs with wild horses. Spends time with the Lakota.” He rubbed his temple. “Her mother was gentle. Too gentle for this world. Amara’s got her eyes, but she’s got my stubbornness. And her mother’s wild heart.”
He stopped, realizing he’d said too much. But the worry slipped out anyway. “She doesn’t fit the mold, Colonel. She won’t sit still. Won’t take tea. Won’t marry who she’s supposed to. I’m terrified every day she’ll get herself killed trying to save the world.”
Lucien didn’t answer right away. He walked slowly around the study, trailing a finger over the bookshelf, the desk, Richard’s world.
Then he smiled. Slow. Predatory.
“Fascinating,” he said softly. “A wild heart. A beautiful face. Gossip says she’s elegant, even when she’s covered in mud.” He turned to Richard fully. “You know what I think, Richard? Man to man?”
Richard felt his stomach drop. “What?”
“I think I’m into your daughter.”
The words hit like a cannon.
Richard blinked. “You... what?”
“I like her elegance,” Lucien said, like they were discussing horseflesh. “I like the challenge she presents. A woman who won’t be tamed? Richard, that’s intoxicating. Imagine her in my home. In my uniform on her arm. Tamed, civilized, polished. She’d be the jewel of my estate. The jewel of the territory.”
Richard’s blood ran cold. “Colonel, Amara is not a horse to be broken. She’s my daughter.”
“And daughters marry,” Lucien said smoothly. “Especially daughters of prominent men. Especially when that marriage secures land, status, protection. You’re a military man, Richard. You understand duty.”
“Duty isn’t forcing a girl into a cage!”
Lucien’s smile sharpened. “Isn’t it? You just told me you’re terrified she’ll die wild. I’m offering you safety. Order. A future where she lives.”
The front doors slammed open before Richard could answer.
“Father! You’ll never believe—”
Amara burst in like a storm with flowers. Lavender in one hand, dust on her boots, Wilson’s calling card crooked in her hair. She didn’t see the uniform until she was halfway across the rug.
“Oh! Father, I had a wonderful day! And don’t worry, I did NOT go out with the Lakota again. I’m innocent!” She threw her arms around Richard’s neck, scattering petals everywhere.
Richard hugged her back, desperate. “Thank God for small mercies.”
Then Amara pulled back and saw him. Colonel Lucien Devereaux. Standing there like judgment in a uniform.
She froze. He didn’t.
His eyes swept over her. Mud. Wild curls. Lavender. Defiance. And his smile became something dark and pleased.
“Good day to you, young miss,” he said, voice dropping to velvet.
Amara curtsied automatically. “Good day to you, sir. Nice to meet you.”
“And your name, beautiful miss?” He stepped closer.
“Amara Bellewood,” she said, chin up. “And you are?”
“Colonel Lucien Devereaux.” He bowed, but it was ownership, not respect. “A very great pleasure, Miss Bellewood.”
Amara felt ice crawl down her spine. She didn’t wait. She turned, lavender clutched to her chest, and walked straight upstairs. Head high. But her hands shook.
Lucien watched her until she disappeared. Then he turned back to Richard. The mask dropped. No charm. Just command.
“You heard what I said, Richard. You’ve got a wild daughter who needs a cage before she breaks herself.” He adjusted his cuff. “I’ll be here next week. Talk to her. Make sure she says yes.”
He walked out. The door closed. Final.
Richard stood alone with lavender on the floor and his daughter’s footsteps overhead, thinking: I brought the wolf to my door by worrying out loud.
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- Writer
