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Authors: Cameron Dane
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cry of a victim and the frigid water clutching a body as it pulled a helpless being to its death.
“You won’t get a fight out of me.” Sophie shivered but not against the cold. “I’ll go find something to eat right away.” She took an automatic step toward the castle, even though she wasn’t anywhere close to the cliffs.
“And, Sophie?” Lucien’s bourbon-smooth tone snared Sophie at the foot of the stone steps.
She turned in a slow half circle and found Lucien’s gaze. “Yes?”
An unnatural glint sparked in Lucien’s eyes. “If you are overcome by the urge to explore my home again, please request an escort. Either I or any of my employees would be happy to give you the official tour again.” His dark brow raised in prominence against his silvery-pale features. “Understood?”
Sophie’s jaw clenched hard enough to make her molars hurt. “Right.” A hint of shame fluttered in her belly, but for reasons she did not understand, this particular man made it difficult for her to feel true remorse for her snooping. “Let me go get some food. And no worries, Mr. Cabot”—she smartly saluted him and his subtle superiority complex—“I’ll make sure to go straight to the kitchen. I will not pass Go or collect two hundred dollars.” Sophie wiggled her fingers at him. “Bye.”
She spun and hustled up the steps quickly, leaving Lucien to stand amid new chuckles, this time from Magnus, Cale, and Jade. More guilt poked at Sophie’s conscience as she made her way inside. She had no right to tweak Lucien at every turn, particularly not in front of his employees. She’d never behaved so unprofessionally in her life. Yet she sensed an ease, a closeness and protection for Lucien from his employees that registered in her as something more accurately described as friendship. Lines were obviously either very blurred or simply outright didn’t exist among this small group—evidenced clearly by last night and a bit more this morning. Once again, Sophie wondered exactly what she’d stepped into when entering Ravenstoke yesterday. And beyond that, she still had a thousand thoughts about what role they, but Lucien in particular, expected her to play.
Sophie entered the kitchen to the inviting waft of warm, yeasty bread filling the air and snaking into her nostrils.
The bread called her, but her thoughts remained squarely on the exchange outside. What do you want with me, Mr. Cabot ? A sense of caution weighed heavy in Sophie’s middle amidst an unusual anticipation rocketing missiles willy-nilly throughout her system anytime she got near Lucien. Heck, if she were honest, every time she thought about him.
At that moment, though, Sophie stumbled upon the freshly cooked loaves of bread still in their pans on the stovetop, and nothing else mattered. Holding back her hair, she leaned in, inhaled deeply, and let the smells of her earliest childhood memories roll through her. Love for her mother and father and the united, tender pair they’d constantly presented to Sophie and Royce filled her heart with the sweetest, welcoming pain. She and Royce might not share the same blood, but Sophie’s mother and Royce’s father had never once let them believe they were anything but true siblings. Royce’s dad had adopted her and made them all a real family in the eyes of the law. Because of that upbringing, when their parents had died, Royce had never even let the idea of someone else taking custody of Sophie become part of the conversation. He’d been of an age to assume legal responsibility for her, and she’d still needed a guardian, so Royce had done everything necessary to gain and then maintain the right to assume the role. Thank God. Although Sophie loved her extended family, it would have devastated her world had Royce contemplated making her someone else’s ward.
Looking at this bread, Sophie laughed to herself. Royce had tried to make her bread once—with disastrous results. He’d almost burned their
“You won’t get a fight out of me.” Sophie shivered but not against the cold. “I’ll go find something to eat right away.” She took an automatic step toward the castle, even though she wasn’t anywhere close to the cliffs.
“And, Sophie?” Lucien’s bourbon-smooth tone snared Sophie at the foot of the stone steps.
She turned in a slow half circle and found Lucien’s gaze. “Yes?”
An unnatural glint sparked in Lucien’s eyes. “If you are overcome by the urge to explore my home again, please request an escort. Either I or any of my employees would be happy to give you the official tour again.” His dark brow raised in prominence against his silvery-pale features. “Understood?”
Sophie’s jaw clenched hard enough to make her molars hurt. “Right.” A hint of shame fluttered in her belly, but for reasons she did not understand, this particular man made it difficult for her to feel true remorse for her snooping. “Let me go get some food. And no worries, Mr. Cabot”—she smartly saluted him and his subtle superiority complex—“I’ll make sure to go straight to the kitchen. I will not pass Go or collect two hundred dollars.” Sophie wiggled her fingers at him. “Bye.”
She spun and hustled up the steps quickly, leaving Lucien to stand amid new chuckles, this time from Magnus, Cale, and Jade. More guilt poked at Sophie’s conscience as she made her way inside. She had no right to tweak Lucien at every turn, particularly not in front of his employees. She’d never behaved so unprofessionally in her life. Yet she sensed an ease, a closeness and protection for Lucien from his employees that registered in her as something more accurately described as friendship. Lines were obviously either very blurred or simply outright didn’t exist among this small group—evidenced clearly by last night and a bit more this morning. Once again, Sophie wondered exactly what she’d stepped into when entering Ravenstoke yesterday. And beyond that, she still had a thousand thoughts about what role they, but Lucien in particular, expected her to play.
Sophie entered the kitchen to the inviting waft of warm, yeasty bread filling the air and snaking into her nostrils.
The bread called her, but her thoughts remained squarely on the exchange outside. What do you want with me, Mr. Cabot ? A sense of caution weighed heavy in Sophie’s middle amidst an unusual anticipation rocketing missiles willy-nilly throughout her system anytime she got near Lucien. Heck, if she were honest, every time she thought about him.
At that moment, though, Sophie stumbled upon the freshly cooked loaves of bread still in their pans on the stovetop, and nothing else mattered. Holding back her hair, she leaned in, inhaled deeply, and let the smells of her earliest childhood memories roll through her. Love for her mother and father and the united, tender pair they’d constantly presented to Sophie and Royce filled her heart with the sweetest, welcoming pain. She and Royce might not share the same blood, but Sophie’s mother and Royce’s father had never once let them believe they were anything but true siblings. Royce’s dad had adopted her and made them all a real family in the eyes of the law. Because of that upbringing, when their parents had died, Royce had never even let the idea of someone else taking custody of Sophie become part of the conversation. He’d been of an age to assume legal responsibility for her, and she’d still needed a guardian, so Royce had done everything necessary to gain and then maintain the right to assume the role. Thank God. Although Sophie loved her extended family, it would have devastated her world had Royce contemplated making her someone else’s ward.
Looking at this bread, Sophie laughed to herself. Royce had tried to make her bread once—with disastrous results. He’d almost burned their
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