1.
Adelaide
For a lonesome girl, early mornings at the farm are always rough. Stepping out on my porch, I let out a big yawn and rub my eyes. The sun is barely up, the lake vaguely shimmering in the distance and the rooster’s shrieking at the top of his lungs, being the farm’s biggest bully as usual. Raising my arms over my head, I do a big stretch. A couple of knots crack in my neck but I’m still tense. I didn’t use to be this on edge before but lately, it’s become my new normal.
Sighing, I fork my fingers through my hair before walking out to the courtyard and I look over my grounds. It’s the one thing I hold the dearest to my heart. This place has been in my family for ages and I’m the only one left.
There’s no more Bowen’s standing anymore, except for me and the responsibility weighs heavier on my shoulders than I’d like to admit. We used to be a tight knit clan once, with festive Sunday dinners and loud country music. The men had strong muscles and the women robust hands and this place would run as smooth as cream. Now, though things are different and I pinch my lips at the sight of one of my apple trees. I’ve been so busy, trying to take care of everything that I didn’t have time to pluck them all. And now they’re rotten, letting out a sweet cidery smell that lingers in the air.
This place can’t fall apart. I don’t care what I have to do but I will never let it deteriorate. It’s a promise I made to my family and it’s a promise, I intend to keep.
Pulling myself together which is something I have to do every single morning, I go on with feeding the animals, first the chickens and then the few sheep I have and not to mention my half a dozen cats. I’m so consumed by my chores that it takes me a while to realize something’s different this morning. There’s some kind of energy, covering my farm like a black blanket.
It’s been a long time since I felt an energy like that around here, a masculine one, hard and penetrating. I squint, paying closer attention to my surroundings.
Is somebody out there? Hiding?
A shiver drips down my spine, like raindrops on a window and I put my arms around me. If someone wanted to hurt me, there’s nothing I could do to stop them. I’ve always been small and on top of it, violence has always terrified me. Any kind of violence, even a harsh word tends to be too much for me and usually leads to me bursting out in tears. Sometimes I wish I was one of those girls who can ride motorbikes and jab mean people in the face but I’m not.
I’m just a small dairy farmer.A milkmaid.
When there’s no sign of an intruder, I decide to shrug off my suspicions and walk into the barn. The cows immediately greet me, causing my lips to curve and I give them a cuddle before grabbing a bucket. Sitting down on a stool, I go ahead and start milking. We’ve always been old fashioned around here, no fancy machinery, no advancements and it gives my farm a pretty picturesque charm.
No wonder I’m being blackmailed into giving it up.
Dragging a deep breath, I try to think of something else because otherwise, I’ll probably pass out. I’ve been blackmailed for about six months now, ever since the last Bowen male died. My brother kept this farm running together with me and I had barely begun mourning before the threats came.
It’s some scary stuff and I often wake up in the middle of the night, just to make sure all doors and windows are closed. My old house creaks a lot and in the past I found it soothing but now I always worry it’s because someone has entered without my permission. In the beginning, I would stay up all night, sit in my chair by the fireplace with an unloaded shotgun beside me and one of my cats tightly pressed to my chest. But keeping watch like that wasn’t sustainable because a girl can’t stay awake forever.
And going to the cops won’t work. The cops are roughly a handful and pretty much useless. They’re just as terrified of my blackmailers as I am. In fact the whole village is pretty much petrified.
Brother Beau was the only one who stood up to them. I could use someone like him around, a male that is but I would need someone stronger, more fearless and violent, someone who could protect me and my farm and someone who isn’t afraid of anything. Not even criminals who look like hell itself spat them back out.
Letting go of the teat, I brush a hand over my forehead. I’m overheating. I wasn’t supposed to be thinking about all the trouble I’m in and now it feels like I’m about to blackout. I do a deep inhale, before clasping my hands and I start pleading.
I plead to my brother wherever he is that he’ll send someone my way. Someone to help me in my helplessness. I yearn for a strong male. One who is big and mean and viciously violent, someone who won’t spare others out of the kindness of his heart but avenge me. An ugly man who knows nothing but rough treatment. I want him to be ruthless but not so ruthless he uses violence in front of me.
In front of me there can be no violence, I couldn’t bare it.
Licking my lips, I hope with all my heart my plea has been heard. Putting my hands back down in my lap, I tense when I feel something stroke the back of my neck. It’s like the wind just caressed me, trying to get my attention and I get goosebumps. The animals turn worried, trampling in place and they wouldn’t do that unless faced with a stranger. Gasping, I whirl around.
“Who’s there,” I demand to know and my voice is shaking. “Show yourself!”
Lifting my face, I stare in shock as a giant figure steps out from behind the stacks of hay and my heart volts in my chest. He’s the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen and it nearly throws me off my stool. His hair is slicked back and the color of glaciers, his eyes polished topaz and shadowed with dark lashes. He’s wearing a black cloak over his dramatically powerful body and it makes him look like he’s surrounded by shadows. I gulp. As much of an effect his strong build has on me, it’s the face I fall for.
Those even, peaceful features... and I hold down a whimper. This man has the face of legends, of myths, of folklore so revered it has only ever been whispered and it captivates me so much that I reach out to touch it...
****
Revenge
Beauregard Bowen. If I had any kind of humor, I’d be laughing. What a name and I’m already brimming with annoyance. Hunting down people who owe us money is not how I prefer to spend my day but since I was the one who gave green light, it’s my responsibility to make sure the debt’s paid.
It should’ve been paid a week ago but I gave the bastard some extra time. Not out of any benevolence but because I don’t like the countryside. And this is deep, deep country and it took me over three hours to get here.
Turning off the slasher rap music, I get out of my car and slam the door before scanning the area. These lands look like they’ve seen better days. The house in the far back resembles a rusty lump of sugar, and don’t get me started on the smells...
Pulling my collar higher up to cover half of my face, I steer my steps toward the courtyard but stop in my tracks. It feels like I’ve just slammed my chest into a brick wall, when I catch a small figure briskly running around, feeding the farm animals and I can’t do anything but stare.