“Fine,” I said, “but I won’t change my mind.”
“All I ask is that you give it some thought.”
“I’m leaving now.”
He nodded. “Very well. Heading back to the Hellborn cottage? Or do you have other plans for the evening?”
When I’d arrived back two weeks ago, my father urged me to stay here at the estate as he usually did on my visits home, but for years I’d preferred my own space. Our family had a cottage that suited me well, on the back border of the land we owned here in the valley, but I’d not let on that after the first couple nights back, I was in fact no longer staying there.
I’d procured much grander accommodations.
“No. I’ve been staying at the Bellemore Manor.”
“Really?” His eyes twinkled as he raised a brow. “I heard Lord Barrington had put himself in a tough spot.”
“Yes. I helped him find his way out. Let’s leave it at that.”
He smiled. I could have let him know the details of what had happened, but my father respected my private nature and left it for me to share the parts and pieces of my life as I wished. When the time came, I’d let him know Lord Barrington lost his estate to me in a card game set up to allow him to settle his previous gambling debt to me one way or another. I didn’t feel a bit sorry for him. Taking one of his four manor homes that he’d acquired in his own devious fashion was just tit for tat in my book.
“If only your brother found independence as seductive as you.”
“He is your problem,” I said, and with that turned away, heading out of the house and into the moonlit winter darkness. My horse was waiting in the stables, fed and watered ready for the ride ahead. It was no short distance back to the Bellemore Estate, and in the snow and ice it would require greater care to get there.
Unlike a lot of the men I’d grown up around, who treated their horses as if they were disposable, there was no way I would risk Vela’s life just to get home a little faster. But that wasn’t where I was heading.
Not yet at least.
CHAPTER 7
Vasile
Saint Theodora’s School was mostly dark as I rode hard down the long, snowy driveway. In the moonlight, I saw two pairs of carriage wheel tracks—one approaching, and one departing, which I guessed had to be from her father dropping her off. I fucking hoped so, anyway. But it didn’t matter, really.
If she wasn’t here, my next stop would be her family estate.
Whatever it took.
Scanning the lit windows for any sign of her, I dismounted and tied Vela to a fence post under a thick covering of trees, keeping her out of the wind.
“I’ll be back soon, girl.” I patted her shoulder and reached in my pockets, gave her one apple and left another on the ground for her to chomp on when she was done with the first.
It was cold as hell outside. Winters in Praque can last for nearly the whole year, with some of the higher peaks perpetually snow-capped. But it’s the low-lying land that tends to become impassable in the darkest depths of the year, with snow drifts, icy floods and avalanches a regular occurrence. Being away in warmer climes with my uncle had left me somewhat unused to that sort of cold, but right then I didn’t care. I barely felt it. Every fiber inside my body was burning up to see her. To get one fucking glimpse of those aqua blue eyes and the swell of her tits which had my cock nearly bursting from the front of my thick trousers.
But window after window yielded no sign of her. I ran my hand through my hair and spun on the toe of my boot, thinking it through as I pulled the lapels of my jacket together at my throat, the night temperatures dropping further as the wind picked up and the tips of my ears numbed.
Suddenly, a noise to my right drew my attention—the sound of uneven footsteps. The sound of my blood rushing in my ears and the hard thump of my heart made it difficult to concentrate. The mere thought that Valeria could be close had my senses on alert, my near frozen dick saved only by the constant pulse of hot blood that called for what it felt already belonged to us.
Peering into the darkness, I saw the shape of a man, half staggering through the snow. He wore thick boots but his jacket was unfastened. The glint of a bottle of vodka caught the moonlight as staggered in an awkward circle, humming happily up at the moon.
As he raised his face to the silver light, I saw the deep-set eyes, the thick lines around his mouth and deep in the flesh of his forehead. From the weathered look of his face, life had ridden him harder than most.