Chapter 11
He doesn’t answer me
Scarlett
My parents’ marriage was one of convenience.
Or of obligation. I never knew which term applied to the union that happened solely because my father impregnated my mother.
Neither of them wanted a baby, but my grandpa insisted they take responsibility for their “negligent deeds” and forced marriage on them.
They were both nineteen.
After I was born, my mother learned to love her new role, and less than two years later, Charlotte came.
Close in age, Charlotte and I grew up almost as twins.
We shared everything and wouldn’t separate into two bedrooms, even after our dad moved us from a modest apartment into a big house and then our ranch mansion.
While I was in college, Charlotte got pregnant and married Josh.
She followed in my parents’ footsteps. Charlotte delivered Beatrice before her nineteenth birthday.
Having seen people in my family be forced into marriages because of babies, I’ve abstained from relationships.
Occasionally, when I get the itch, I’ll scratch it with colleagues I’ve identified as safe, but the selection is shrinking as I age since they’re forming their own unions.
I’m no home-wrecker, so it’s been a while.
The plane touches down with a gentle thud, and Endo unbuckles his seat belt.
We haven’t come to a full stop yet, so I leave mine on as per regulations.
Not that there are any regulations on private airplanes, but it’s a habit.
Or perhaps an expectation. That’s probably why Endo releases his before it’s time.
He defies other people’s expectations so he can deliver the unexpected.
This makes his life more thrilling, I suppose.
I open the window shade, and the endless blue sea greets me.
The coast is pretty, I’ll give it that.
The plane takes a few minutes to stop. We disembark and load into a black SUV with tinted windows.
Couldermouth is a town in the country with the sea on one side and gently rolling hills on the other.
Around the town square, which is dominated by a big church, people frequent the small shops and bars, and a single building that might be a hotel.
We pass through the busy town and enter a forested area, where we drive for a good fifteen minutes. Next to me on the back seat, Endo is texting, but when he feels me looking at him, he lifts his head.
“Sleep well?” he asks.
He means on the plane. I did. “No.”
“You drooled. Like this.” He closes his eyes and opens his mouth, imitating a sleeping person.
“I was faking sleep so you’d talk about your secrets in front of me.”
He smiles, relaxing back into his seat. In his domain, Endo seems less tense.
The car clears the woods, and the road cuts through a lawn of meticulously mowed grass and trimmed bushes. We cross the bridge over a narrow river and park right after it on the left. I can see a small part of the house past Endo’s shoulder.
Marquis and Slada exit the car and lean against my door.
I turn toward Endo. “You’ll keep me in the car?”
Endo faces me and rests his elbow over the back seat, his fingers brushing the side of my jaw. A golden chain slides across his throat. “House rules,” he says.
“Didn’t think you liked rules.”
“It depends on whether I agree with them or not.”
“Fair enough.”
“The people of Couldermouth dislike strangers.”
I sigh. “Luckily for me, my stay will be so brief, they’ll never meet me.”
Endo grunts. “Keep my ring on your finger at all times so I don’t have to kill anyone for messing with my collateral.”
Jesus.
“Nod so that I know you understand me.”
“I understand.”
Endo uncuffs his sleeve. “This is my favorite place on earth. Name’s Widow’s Keep, a former pirate fortress.
Those thick walls withstood tides, weathered storms, and kept an army of enemies away from the people inside.
If your dad comes after me or tries to rescue you, he will find only death.
I’m telling you that in case he or that little prick of his attempts a rescue.
Also, there’s no escape.” Endo slides forward over the leather seat.
Instinctively, I scoot back until my spine hits the door. I’m trapped. His cologne, along with his energy, invades without permission or apology.
“We don’t keep horses,” he says. “But later this evening, I’ll show you other things you can ride.”
I sigh. “I’m not interested.”
“In what?” He fights a smile.
“In your riding equipment.”
“I have a collection of motorcycles.” Endo brushes a knuckle over my cheek, which is probably rosy from the heat rising in my body. “But I’m game for whatever you feel like riding.”
“I don’t want to feed your fantasies.”
“You thought of sex. Not me.” He smirks. “Been a while?”
“None of your business.”
He laughs. “That long, huh?”
I’m not ashamed of my celibacy, but I never want him to find out.
Endo glances at my mouth, then says, “Welcome to Widow’s Keep.” I gasp when his lips brush the corner of mine as he reaches across and opens the car door behind me.
He sits back and tilts his head, expecting me to leave, but my brain is scrambled, it seems, and I can’t move.
“I trust you’ll find your suite acceptable.” He lowers his voice to a near whisper. “Lock your door.”
With that, he leaves so I can breathe and exit the car.
The sun hits me in the eyes right as I step out. I shield them with my hand.
On my left is the lawn on this side of the river.
Men with machine guns guard the property.
Most of them are facing the forest leading into the town as if expecting an army to come through it any moment.
Behind me is the river, which flows back into the thinning forest, and on my right is the house.
And by house, I mean a mansion, or better yet, a fortress.
Widow’s Keep is a massive three-story Georgian mansion made of dark gray stone. Evenly spaced, tall, narrow windows framed in polished white stone adorn the structure. Endo walks up the steps of the grand entrance and stands between the two columns that support the portico.
He turns around. “Are you coming, or do I have to drag you?”
A young blond man wearing a black-on-black uniform pops open the trunk and grabs my suitcase. An identically dressed man gets behind the wheel of the car and drives off.
The one with the suitcase carries it up and speaks with Endo.
“Take your time, Scarlett,” Endo says. “I handpicked men who have all day to guard you.”
I climb the steps. “How long have you lived here?”
“I grew up in this house.”
“When was it built?”
“In the thirteen hundreds.”
I gasp. “My God. Has it been in your family all this time?”
“Mmhm.”
“Your ancestors were pirates?”
Endo nods.
“The reason behind your tattoos.” I don’t know why I look over at the young man’s hands. He carries a matching set of tattoos, but instead of a skull and crossbones on his fingers, he has them over the top of his hands.
I offer the younger man my hand. “Scarlett Pembroke. Nice to meet you.”
His handshake is firm. “Connor Crossbow. I go by Con.”
“His twin brother’s Declan, goes by Dec.” Endo enters the house, and we follow. “Widow’s Keep has two civilian floors.”
“Civilian?” I interrupt.
“Yes. First and second floors. You’re welcome to familiarize yourself with that area.”
“I hope I don’t have to stay long enough to get all that familiar.” Granted, I’m dying for a tour and a story about the Keep. I bet these walls, besides weathering many storms, have heard lots of juicy stories. If Endo didn’t live here, this could be a museum.
“As do I,” he says. “I shot your father to get him to move faster.”
“An injured man moves slower, not faster.”
“An injured man moves faster because he understands he’s lucky to be alive.
” Endo pauses at the massive double doors.
“The first floor is for gathering. Dining rooms, living room, kitchen, etc. The second floor is where the bedrooms are. Mine’s over here.
” He points to the upper east half of the house.
“My brother’s quarters are next to mine.
That’s our east wing, and it’s fully renovated.
There are two more rooms in the wing. You’re welcome to them. ”
I point in the opposite direction. “How about over here?”
Endo smiles. “I thought you might want to stay as far away from me as possible, so I had one room there cleaned for you.”
“I have no idea why you’d think that.”
Endo seems amused. “The west wing isn’t renovated, and the bedframes are small, being hundreds of years old.”
“I’ll be fine, but out of curiosity, do all your captives get to choose where they’ll stay, or am I special?”
“You’re special.” His eyes light up. “Do you want to see my dungeons?”
Are we still joking or… Better safe than sorry. “No, thank you.”
Endo grips both door handles and pushes the doors open.
I walk in and try to contain my awe at this uniquely beautiful prison.