A Suitor Not So Sweet
Belle
The sun is sliding down the sky by the time I return home.
Father’s horse is nowhere to be found, and Izzie has left a red candle in the front window. It’s her subtle way of saying, “I’m off reading,” when she’s really frolicking in a field somewhere and singing about wanting a prince.
Or maybe she’s having sex again…
Setting my basket on the porch, I unlock the door and head into the kitchen. I pull Izzie’s scarf off my face and light the stove.
“Took you long enough to return home,” a deep voice says from behind. “This isn’t how I like to run my business.”
Gasping, I instinctively pick up my father’s rifle and spin around, ready to fire a fatal shot in the intruder’s chest.
What the hell?
At the end of my barrel, a beautiful man in navy blue is smirking at me. His muscles are straining the fabric of his overcoat, and his deep blue eyes and perfectly carved jawline instantly confirm that he’s the most attractive man I’ve ever seen in my life.
And yet, despite the sudden flight of butterflies in my chest, the recognition ruins the view.
He’s G’aston, Mister Gabriel Aston.
The cockiest, most-self-absorbed bastard who owns almost every building in the village and thinks he’s entitled to whatever and whoever he wants.
I hold my finger over the trigger and narrow my eyes. “Who let you inside this house?”
“No one.” He smiles as he eyes the gun. “You may want to put that down before you make a fool of yourself and miss.”
“I never miss.” I tilt the barrel toward the glass jars on the window behind him. Pulling the trigger, I shatter the first one to pieces before refocusing my aim on his mouth.
“Get out.” I aim for his heart. “Now.”
Looking impressed, he stares at me for several seconds. Then he places his hand over the muzzle before gently prying the gun from my hands.
“This is a friendly visit.” He sets the rifle against the wall, still staring at me, making me wonder if Cinderella’s powder has worn off already.
“You can stop staring at my scars now,” I say. “It’s rude.”
“I don’t see any scars.” He tilts his head to the side. “I don’t see any imperfections at all…”
“Well, good.” I swallow, sliding a hand under my dress for my dagger. “Don’t make me ask you to leave again. I’ll be sure that you regret it.”
“I’m sure.” He doesn’t look the slightest bit threatened. “I’d like you to make me a glass of water now.”
“I’d like for you to walk away or disappear.”
“That wasn’t a request.”
“That’s exactly why I’m not getting it for you.”
Silence.
He looks me up and down, causing more butterflies to flutter in my chest.
Domineering and gorgeous, he steps closer, his eyes locked on mine. “Is there a reason why I’ve never seen you before?”
“Probably because I haven’t made any trips to Hell lately.”
“I’m fairly certain that I’m going to heaven when I die.”
“Would you like me to speed up that process so you can find out?”
He lets out a low laugh that sends tingles up my spine. “I’m here to see Isabelle. Where is she?”
“She’s not interested in you.”
“What about Mr. Arwyn?”
“He’ll entertain your affection as long as you’re willing to pay for it. Leave a check.”
“This is about a conversation we need to have; he’s expecting me.” He looks beyond amused. “Who are you?”
“I’m—” I pause as he steps even closer, as I breathe in his intoxicating scent. “I’m the family’s servant.”
“Excuse me?” He raises his eyebrow. “Since when can Mr. Arwyn afford a servant?”
“That’s none of your business.”
“It is when he owes me something.”
“Okay, look asshole.” I cross my arms. “You barged into this house uninvited, and you’re suddenly acting like everything in it belongs to you. You don’t have permission to ask me any more questions, and it’s far past time for you to leave. I’ll tell Mr. Arwyn and Izzie that you stopped by.”
“Can you promise me that?”
“No.”
“I figured.” He pulls a red rose bloom from his coat pocket and sets it on the table.
“Word of advice to you, Miss Anonymous. If you don’t wish to be a spinster or a servant girl for the rest of your life, you should learn how to be nice.”
“I didn’t shoot you between your eyes for trespassing,” I say. “I’m being more than nice.”
His lips curve into a slow, sexy smile. “In case I run into Izzie, do you have a name so I can tell her that we’ve spoken?”
“Yes. It’s Get Out,” I say, and he laughs again as he heads toward the door.
Even though I know that Izzie will say no to Gabriel’s attempt at affection on the count of him not being a prince, I can’t help but give him a false sense of hope.
“You’re forgetting something,” I say.