Chapter 13
A Temptation to Tame
Marigold awoke in a different bed in a different room, disoriented and confused. Layers of fur blankets weighed her down. She sat up, hair falling over her shoulder as she looked around.
Alone. Finally.
She studied the room, but didn’t recognize the space.
The furniture lacked the luxurious, masculine feel of the other bedrooms. Instead, this one had a feminine air to it.
Exposed ceilings with pale honey planks and dark beams formed a star overhead, a beautiful contrast to the crystal chandelier hanging from the center over the king-sized bed.
But this was no ordinary bed one could purchase online.
The posts were raw birch, knotted and twisting upward, a natural work of art that made Marigold feel like she was waking up in a mystical fairytale.
Her nose twitched. The room might look like a fairytale, but she smelled like a bridge troll.
Slipping out of bed, she quickly rushed to the door she hoped was a bathroom before someone noticed her nude form sprinting across one of the surveillance cameras.
She was sure there were several hidden in the room.
Otherwise, they would have never left her alone.
The door indeed hid a bathroom, equally feminine as the bedroom with a claw-footed antique tub, and a vintage dressing table facing an ornate oval mirror.
“Perfect.”
She set the faucet to warm and let the tub fill as she nosed around for toiletries. To her surprise, the drawers were stocked with unopened products. Female products.
Was that a twinge of…jealousy?
No, she couldn’t be jealous.
What did she care if other women had stayed here? However, the uncomfortable pinch persisted, evoking a sense of petty suspicion towards the females who might have stared in this mirror before.
She withdrew several unopened bottles and a packaged toothbrush. As the tub filled, the bathroom warmed and she doctored the water with oils and salts. The moment she sank into the warm bath, she moaned.
“Yessss….” She allowed herself several minutes to simply soak and take in the lavishness of the stunning room.
It didn’t take long for her to find a brass bear head, looking directly at her. Unsure who watched on the other end, she lifted a hand from the water, stuck out her tongue and popped the middle finger.
“Do you think you’re funny?”
Water sloshed as she jolted and looked back at the door, but she was all alone.
“To your right. The lamp.”
She looked at the accent table where an apothecary assortment of perfumes and salts sat on a gold tray. Hidden at the base of the lamp was a small speaker.
She looked back at the bear and narrowed her eyes. “Pervert.”
“Guilty. Did you sleep well?”
Only then did she realize it was Ash on the other end. His easy-going tone gave him away. “Yes. I don’t remember getting here.”
“You passed out. Stone put you to bed.”
“S—Stone?” She didn’t like the thought of him touching her while she was unconscious.
“Relax. He was a perfect gentleman. And feeling rather sheepish for his earlier tantrum. He carried you up while you were sleeping. It was the least he could do.”
“Oh.” She believed Ash, her nerves at ease again.
“Shit. I have to take this call. Enjoy your bath, printessa.”
He stopped talking, but that didn’t mean he stopped watching or listening. She pictured him in a dark room filled with monitors. Or maybe it was through their phones. Could they all see her? She slouched lower in the water, still on edge at the thought of having an audience.
When she finished washing, she brushed her hair to one side and tied it back with a blue satin ribbon. Then she returned to the bedroom, surprised to find a sweater dress laid out on the bed that hadn’t been there before. And it was just her size.
She glanced around nervously, making sure she was alone before checking the label. Definitely women’s.
“How frequently do they host hostages here?” she muttered, pulling the dress over her head. It was loose-fitting and fell just to her knees. “Ooh!” She spotted a tall pair of suede boots on the floor beside the bed. Brand new and just her size!
She pulled them on, dragging the zipper up slowly. The butter soft suede went to her thighs and had a tiny gemstone in the heel that looked like smoky quartz.
She examined her reflection in the mirror. It was the cutest she’d looked in months and the closest she’d felt to normal since that horrible day they sent her away.
Paranoia set in. Why were they spoiling her? They hated her. This had to be some sort of trap. As much as it killed her, she removed the boots and put them back beside the bed.
“Don’t they fit?”
She spun toward the door, but was still alone. She padded barefoot to the bedside lamp, but didn’t see a speaker. “Ash?”
“What was wrong with the boots?”
She continued to search for the speaker. “Nothing.”
“Then why did you take them off?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“You clearly liked them. Were they too small?”
“No.” She lifted a perfume bottle and checked the bottom. “Where are you?”
“Too big?”
“No.” She searched the door frame unsure how small a speaker could be.
“Then what?”
“I just didn’t want them.”
“Liar.”
Giving up her search, she snapped, “What do you care anyway?”
“The lodge gets cold. You should have something on your feet. Besides, they looked sexy on you. But more than that, you liked them. I saw how excited you got when you put them on.”
She hated how much she liked knowing he thought she looked sexy. “I just don’t want them.”
“They were a gift.”
“No, thank you.”
He sighed and she swore it came from the left side of the room. She lifted a vase of flowers, but found no speaker.
“Marigold, gifts are gifts. No strings attached.”
She pulled open a drawer but it was empty. “Everything here has strings, Ash.”
“Put the boots on.”
“No.”
“It wasn’t a request.”
She glared up at the bear camera. “You just ruined them.” Walking back to the bed, she put on the boots, but without the pleasure she felt the first time she tried them on. “Anything else, Master?”
“Watch the attitude. We don’t take well to bratty behavior, as you’ve learned.”
“Well, I don’t take well to bossiness.”
“Last night you did.”
She pressed her lips into a firm line. “What am I supposed to do now?”
“Whatever you want.”
She stilled. Seriously? “Aren’t you afraid I’ll get into trouble?”
“If you do, we’ll see that you’re properly reprimanded. I’m on duty a few more hours, but Hunter and Stone are around. Go exploring.”
“Duty?”
“Work.”
“What do you do?”
“Nothing that concerns you. I want you to go right to the kitchen and eat something before you do anything else.”
Food sounded like a good idea. Her belly felt hollow, and she couldn’t remember the last thing she ate. “Okay.”
“Be good, printessa. I’ll be watching.”
She rolled her eyes and mumbled, “I bet you will.”
In the kitchen, she concocted a small plate of bread, cheese, and some fancy jam she found in the cupboard. As she sat at the table, frequently staring at the bear cam beside the clock on the wall, she wondered about her hosts.
The house—or lodge as they called it—was state-of-the-art luxury wrapped in primitive strength.
The castle-like exterior would hold up for years against the tundra-like conditions outside.
She’d always thought the Isles of Kassel were tropical, but she supposed she was wrong.
Or maybe the islands were just that big that they spanned different climates.
When she finished her lunch, she washed the plate and put it away. Opening the industrial-sized fridge, she set the jam back on the shelf where she’d found it. When she closed the heavy door, she jumped.
Hunter stood a foot away from her, glaring like she’d just robbed him.
Her heart jolted from calm to erratic as she took another step back. “Ash told me to eat.”
He grunted and opened the freezer.
She took several more steps back.
Paying her no mind, he pulled a frosted glass bottle out and set it on the counter beside two small glasses, then caught her by the sweater. “You stay.”
She didn’t want to stay. She didn’t want to be anywhere near him. Just looking at him now, made her aware of how her throat still ached.
“Sit.” He pointed at one of the upholstered stools at the island.
Reluctantly, she slithered onto the seat and tugged her sweater dress down to her knees.
Hunter filled the two glasses with what she suspected was vodka. She kept her head down and studied him through her lashes.
He had to be ex-military. Ordinary men weren’t built like that. His face was a mixture of chiseled, hard angles and scars. He rolled his neck, deliberate and slow, each little pop breaking the suffocating silence.
“Drink.” He pushed a shot glass in front of her.
Marigold lifted the glass with a shaky hand and sipped. Yup, definitely vodka. She took a minuscule sip and set the frosted glass down.
“No, drink.” He demonstrated by throwing his shot back and slamming down the empty glass.
She only ever did shots on her twenty-first birthday and that had not ended well. “I’d rather sip—”
“Did I ask? Do as I say.”
Her hatred for him grew. Lifting the glass, she took a deep breath and tossed the contents back, sputtering as the icy fire rushed down her throat. Her eyes instantly watered. “Oh, God, that’s awful.”
He refilled her glass and pushed it forward. “Drink.”
“Seriously?”
He shot her a look that proved he was very serious.
Discouraged, she lifted the glass and hesitated. Two shots and she’d be drunk. Maybe that would be best. Reluctantly, she chugged it down and groaned.
When he refilled it again, she begged, “Please, no more.”
“Drink.”
“I can’t.”
“Either drink it or I’ll shove it down your throat myself.”
She pulled the glass closer and whispered asshole under her breath. Before she saw him move, her face was pressing into the counter. He had her bent over and pinned by the back of the neck.
“Do I look like someone you should fuck with?”