Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
After assuring Trent three times that she was well, he finally left her to check on Brennan and another tenant. So much for taking a day off. He probably didn’t know how. She sat down in the chair in her room, the day's events playing through her mind.
Trent hadn’t hesitated for a second to step in front of her and protect her.
Even if it was just a young man who thought she was pretty.
Anyone else would have told her not to be silly and the boy was just paying her a compliment, but not Trent.
And Mrs. Elmhurst had been magnificent. Perhaps if more mothers were like her, men like Norman and his ilk wouldn’t be so commonplace.
With another grateful sigh, Samantha collected her sketchbook and pencils and went back downstairs. She was determined to repay some of Trent’s kindness, and had an idea of what she could do.
Benson smiled at her from the door to the drawing room as she reached the bottom of the stairs.
“Good afternoon, Miss Allister.”
“Just the man I was hoping to find.”
“Are you ready to continue our backgammon lessons?”
“I would like nothing more. But first, will you show me which of these men is Trent’s father?” She pointed to the portraits that hung around the entrance hall.
“That one there,” he said, indicating the one to her right.
She gazed at the painting for a long moment. “He doesn’t look like a monster.”
“Looks can be deceiving. There’s another one in here over the fireplace.”
She followed him into the drawing room. That portrait was larger. “They do look a great deal like their father.” She turned to Benson. “How are they both so kind? Why are they not like he was?”
Benson gave a long shrug. “I don’t know, but I’m glad for it. Their father was unimaginably cruel.”
“Was he cruel to you, Benson?”
He gave her a kind smile. “That’s all in the past, and probably best left there. Where has all of this curiosity come from?”
“I suppose I just want to understand him.”
“I’m not sure knowing about his father will be helpful in your endeavors. Trent never met him. He may not even know which portraits are of his father.”
She nodded, taking another long look at the man that hung over the mantel.
His coloring more closely resembled Ash, his eyes almost black.
But not evil. Although, none of the men she’d encountered looked evil, and most of them certainly were.
“I’ll cease my questions for now. Let us continue our backgammon lessons. ”
An hour later, Trent appeared in the doorway, a smile on his lips as he entered the room. “First my sister, and now my backgammon partner?”
Samantha laughed. Something that, before coming here, she hadn’t done in years. And here in this house, it already felt natural. “You can have him all to yourself this evening. I promise I won’t interject myself into your nightly ritual.”
“You may interject yourself wherever and whenever you’d like. I am always glad of your company.”
He was far too kind, but she had no intention of taking over his whole life.
“Right now,” he continued, “I’m going upstairs to make myself presentable for dinner. I hope you’ll be joining us.”
“I’m looking forward to it.”
Only when Benson quietly cleared his throat did she realize she’d been staring at the empty doorway. Warmth filled her cheeks as she quickly rolled for her turn.
A four! She tapped her piece on top of one of his.
“That’s the third time,” he said with a chuckle as he placed his piece on the bar.
“Beginner’s luck.” She shrugged.
After dinner, she joined Trent and Maggie for another bedtime story. She enjoyed watching him read. He was animated and used voices with the first one, and with the second, he spoke softly and slowly, lulling Maggie to sleep. Nearly lulling Samantha there, as well.
“You look sleepy,” he whispered after closing the second book. “Would you like me to carry you to your bed?”
“Don’t be silly.” She climbed carefully off the end of Maggie’s bed and walked with him to her own room. “Goodnight, Trent.”
She removed her wrapper and climbed into bed. The truth was, she did want him to carry her. She missed feeling his warmth. She shouldn’t miss that. It wasn’t appropriate for her to want those kinds of things.
With a sigh, she turned on her side and pulled the covers over her shoulder, the day’s events transporting her off to sleep.
“I don’t want to go, Norman.”
“But you will, and you’ll do whatever he asks of you, because you’re my good girl.”
Samantha gasped and clapped a hand over her mouth to keep in her scream. It was a dream. It was only a dream. He wasn’t here. Her whole body trembled and tears poured from her eyes. She tried her best to stay quiet, but the sobs overcame her.
Throwing the blankets back, she knelt beside the bed, resting her forehead on her clasped hands, but it didn’t help. Fear surged through her body like a river of ice. “Please, please, please.” She had no idea what she was saying, she just wanted the fear to stop.
A warm hand touched her back and a scream flew from her throat as she twisted away.
“It’s alright, Samantha.”
Dim light spilled in from the hallway, outlining Trent’s form as he knelt before her. “I’m not going to hurt you. You’re safe. I promise you’re safe.”
Relief washed over her and she reached for him, knowing he would help her. He pulled her into a tight embrace, rocking her slowly.
“Shhh. You’re alright, Samantha. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”
“Why did he do that, Trent? Why did he send me to those men, knowing they would hurt me? Knowing I didn’t want it?”
“I don’t know.” He sat down and settled her onto his lap. “I don’t know.” She felt his head shake. “He was a horrible man. I’m so sorry for everything you had to endure. I promise I won’t let it happen again.”
She burrowed more tightly against him, and he didn’t let her go. Just continued to hold her, vowing his protection.
As the crying slowly diminished, she leaned back to look into his eyes. “Can I punch him again tomorrow?”
“You can punch him again right now.”
“But I’m in my nightgown.”
“We don’t need to go outside. We can do it right here. Go get your sketchbook.”
She hesitated for a moment. With a nod, she donned her wrapper, and retrieved the book.
Trent closed the door and lit some lamps. “Tear out whichever one you want to use.”
It didn’t really matter. Every page was his face. She tore out the next one and handed it to him. He picked up a throw pillow and placed it against his chest, holding Norman’s face on the front of it.
“I don’t want to hit you.”
“Keep your eyes on the picture. That’s who you’re hitting.”
“But what if I hurt you?”
“You won’t.” He looked down. “Is that the correct position for your feet?”
She felt silly standing there in her nightclothes and bare feet, but she pushed through her reticence. She spaced her feet just as he’d shown her and curled her fingers into fists.
“Slowly for the first few, so you can remember your form.”
Her heart thudded as she stared into Norman’s face.
Anger bubbled in her and she used it to draw strength.
Slowly, she pushed her fist to meet the paper.
Once, twice, and the third one she threw with all her might.
“I hate you!” she yelled at the picture.
“How could you do that to me?” Each punch damaged him a little more as she slammed her fist into the paper.
“You’re a monster!” With the last one, it ripped clean through, and the bottom half fluttered to the floor.
If only it were that easy to destroy him in her mind.
Trent set the pillow aside and she stepped into his embrace, once more. “Good work.”
She laughed through her tears at his praise, but he lifted her chin and looked into her eyes. “I wasn’t teasing you. I’m proud of you, Samantha. I’m impressed by your strength and your resilience. You’re stronger than me.”
“Well then, if you hurt your ankle, you have nothing to worry about. I’ll just carry you around like it’s nothing.”
“You know that’s not what I mean.”
She nodded. “I know. But I’m not strong enough. I’m terrified to go back to sleep because I know he’ll be there waiting for me.”
“I won’t leave you, then. I’ll be right there in that chair while you sleep.”
“No, Trent. My nightmares are not going to deprive you of your sleep too. I’ve already impeded it too much tonight.”
“And what kind of man would I be if I just left you to face it on your own? Hmm?”
Her mind and heart were in a full argument. She desperately wanted him to stay, but he needed sleep. “You may stay, but only if you’ll lie down next to me and sleep.”
“What do you think your brother would say about that?”
“My brother isn’t here. Besides, you’re obviously not going to ravish me.”
His brow furrowed at the mere word. “It still doesn’t seem right.”
She shrugged. “You’re not staying in that chair on my account. I will not take away the small amount of sleep you allow yourself, so you may either sleep in my bed or in your own. Those are your options.”
He sighed and shook his head. “You drive a hard bargain, Miss Allister.” He turned and walked toward the door. Sadness settled over her, but it was for the best.
But he didn’t open it. “Tell me when you’re settled.
” He wasn’t leaving. He was just giving her privacy, which was ridiculous after everything.
He’d just seen her in her nightgown. He’d seen her completely naked, for heaven’s sake.
But even still, this was his way of showing her respect, and she was grateful for it.
She removed her wrapper and climbed into the bed. “I’m covered, all the way to my chin.”
He extinguished the lamps, and the mattress moved as he lay on the opposite side. He hadn’t lifted the blankets. One extra layer of separation. She almost laughed. Pulling her arm out from under the covers, she slipped her hand into his.
“You’re a good man, Trent Gibson.”
* * *
You’re a good man, Trent Gibson.