Chapter 5

NATALEE

I lounged in bed,snuggled under the quilts, as I replayed the conversation I’d had with Knot Thazurok during our picnic. I counted the weeks since that wonderful afternoon. Three weeks ago. I sighed with longing.

Gods, he was handsome. Those dark eyes of his made my heart go pitter patter. I’d also found myself unable to keep admiring his muscular forearms during our picnic. He had a kindly, patient manner about him, though he also possessed an air of authority that made my insides melt.

None of the males in town that Mrs. Foxthorne had introduced me to had caught my fancy in the slightest. But Mr. Thazurok—no, Knot, he’d invited me to use his given name—left me feeling flushed and all tingly inside. He’d given me the sort of delicious jitters I hadn’t felt in a long time.

Not since Logan.

Instead of experiencing a pang of sadness at the thought of my late husband, a sense of hope rushed through me. Even if I never met Knot again, though I hoped and prayed I would, at least I knew it was possible to feel an attraction to another male.

If only Mrs. Foxthorne hadn’t recently increased the pressure on me to marry. Though I helped around the house, tended the garden, and even did much of the cooking myself, I suspected I’d long worn out my welcome. Perhaps Mrs. Foxthorne wanted her days to herself. I couldn’t fault the woman. This was her home, after all.

I sat up to snuff out the lantern, but the creaking of my bedroom door being slowly opened drew my attention. I tugged the top quilt up to my neck, my heart pounding.

Neither of the Foxthornes were normally awake at this late hour.

Was something wrong?

A male figure crept into my bedroom and shut the door. Before he turned around, I recognized Mr. Foxthorne by his shoulder-length white hair. When he finally spun and met my gaze, the leering look he wore made my stomach twist with apprehension.

“Mr. Foxthorne? Sir? Is something wrong with Mrs. Foxthorne?”

“She’s faaaast asleep. Took some elixxxxir for a baaaad headache. I doubt she’ll be waking anytime soooooon.”

“Well, I hope she feels better in the morning.” I could barely get the words out and maintain a semblance of calm. My heart beat faster. He sounded quite drunk.

Why in the starfields was he in my room?

He smiled, a scheming smile, and stumbled over to my bed, where he plopped down on the edge, sitting far too close for comfort. All at once, every odd and lingering look he’d given me came rushing back. I scooted away and clutched the covers tighter at my neck. The scent of whiskey reached me, deepening my fear. Yes, he was most definitely drunk beyond good sense.

“Natalee, don’t thinkkk I haven’t noticed you tryinggg to tempt meeee.” His words came out more slurred. “I see the way you move your hipssss while you’re around me. The sweet lookssss you give me.” He put a hand on my thigh, overtop the covers, and squeezed even as I tried desperately to squirm away. My panic deepened.

“Mr. Foxthorne, you are mistaken, and you are drunk. I insist you leave my bedroom at once.”

“Very well.” His face darkened. “How about thissss, Natalee? You are homeless and nearly destitute. You are estranged from your family and have no friendsss here in Faircross. My wife and I took you in out of the goodness in our heartssss when we heard about your predicaaaaament. Gods-fearing folk, we are.” He chuckled as though he’d just told the funniest joke.

“Leave my room now, Mr. Foxthorne, or I shall scream.”

He shook his head with another laugh. “Push the coversss off yourself and slip your nightdress off your shoulderssss. I want to see you. I bet you’re lovelier than the females at The Sweet Siren Tavern.”

“No.” A scream built in my throat, but fear kept me from making any sound as he drew closer. It was like one of those dreams I often had during which a monster was chasing me through the streets, but I couldn’t make my legs work to escape the danger no matter how hard I tried. But I doubted I would wake up the moment this monster touched me. “Please,” I whispered in a beseeching tone. “You mustn’t. You are a married man, sir. And even if you weren’t… well, you must leave!”

“Ha! Married. To that old bag? I’d hoped when I came southwest across the ocean to oversee my inheritance, that she would stay in the Northern Isles. But she insisted on coming. Just my luuuuck, I suppose.” He sneered.

“You should consider yourself lucky to have such a devoted wife.” If I kept him talking, maybe he would change his mind. Or pass out in a drunken stupor.

“Enough talk. Let’s get rid of these blasted covers.” He lunged at me, tearing the top quilt from my hands.

With great effort, I pushed myself out from underneath his sizable bulk. But the moment my feet hit the floor, he grabbed me with a roughness that struck terror in my heart. He clasped my hands at my lower back and forced me to bend over the bed. My blood ran cold when I felt his free hand roaming underneath my nightdress, stroking my bottom overtop my drawers. I shuddered and closed my eyes, praying to make it through this ordeal unscathed.

“Now, be a good girl and keep quiet.” He put a hand around the side of my neck and squeezed. “I’ll cut your air off if you make another soooound.”

This couldn’t be happening. Tears escaped my eyes and dampened the covers beneath my face. I turned my head to the side and focused on breathing in and out, as much as I could with his hand still on my throat. The slight movement resulted in Mr. Foxthorne tightening his hands around my neck.

He released my wrists but kept his body pressed firmly to mine, then pulled open the tie holding up my drawers. I felt the fabric pooling at my feet, and the cool night air that drifted in the open window hit my bare flesh, inciting more fear-induced shivers. I heard the fumbling of a belt buckle being opened. Oh gods. Oh please no.

My heart pounded. I said another prayer and took a deep breath, then planted my feet square on the floor and reared back, knocking Mr. Foxthorne over while he was distracted with the unfastening of his trousers.

I tried to rush by him and reach the door, but the drawers that were still tangled around my ankles slowed my steps. I hopped out of them and managed to wrap my hand around the cold metal doorknob, only to be grabbed around my waist and jerked backward. He lifted me in the air, and a second later I found myself tossed on the bed.

Jumping on top of me, he straddled me and pinned my wrists together above my head. When he leaned down to smirk in my face, I nearly gagged at the stench of whiskey and the other foul smells that emanated from him. Gods-fearing man, my ass.

“You like it rough, do you?” He chuckled and pressed his lips against mine.

I thrashed beneath him but was no match for his large size. I gagged as he tried kissing me. Tears continued spilling down my cheeks. He forced my legs apart and I felt his hard member against my thigh. I rallied for one last fight, hoping I had the strength to push him off. Or maybe I could knee the bastard in the crotch.

“What in the God of Virtue’s name is this?” an irritated feminine voice called from the doorway.

Mr. Foxthorne froze and looked over at his wife.

Relief swept through me. I stared at Mrs. Foxthorne with wide eyes, waiting for the lady of the house to berate her husband for his wickedness.

But what happened next, I would have never predicted.

“Apologies, my love,” Mr. Foxthorne said, releasing me and crawling off the bed. He fixed his trousers shut and closed his belt. “I’ve had a little to drink this evening, and when I came home, Natalee was downstairs in nothing but her thin nightdress. She pressed herself against me the moment I walked in the door and asked me to touch her. Forgive me for my weakness, Bessie.”

Mrs. Foxthorne’s face softened when she gazed into her husband’s eyes, but when she turned to look at me, I glimpsed nothing but burning hatred.

“Is this the thanks I get for convincing my husband to show you charity during your time of need? You try to seduce my husband?”

I pushed my nightdress down and stared at the couple in disbelief. “N-no, ma’am. That’s not what happened at all.”

“Don’t you be lying to me, child. I know you’ve a great deal of evil in your heart. You’ve been planning to lead my husband straight into the starfires with you this whole time, haven’t you?”

“No, Mrs. Foxthorne, I didn’t?—”

“Pack your things. I want you out of our house. I don’t care that it’s the middle of the night. I’ll not house a slut under my roof for a moment longer.”

Mr. Foxthorne stood beside his wife, his head lowered, his demeanor subdued, as if he were a child who’d been caught sneaking a sweet before supper. He put a hand on his wife’s shoulder briefly and then backed out of the room.

“You have one minute to be gone. Anything you leave behind will be thrown out.”

The door slammed shut and I couldn’t move, or even take in a single breath, for several seconds. Numb disbelief clutched at my heart.

How could this have happened?

Mr. Foxthorne’s leering glances had made me uneasy, but I’d never expected he would try to force himself on me.

Wiping the tears from my face, I shot out of bed and hurried to dress myself. I quickly packed my things in two valises. I didn’t have much to my name anymore. Most of my pretty dresses and nicer things had been exchanged for extra food while traveling on the ship to Orsleann. After that, I’d been forced to part with even more of my belongings because the stagecoach that brought us to Faircross only allowed a few pieces of luggage per passenger.

When I burst out of the bedroom struggling to carry my valises, Mr. and Mrs. Foxthorne were waiting at the bottom of the steps, standing next to the open front door. My heart lurched. I was literally being tossed out onto the street in the middle of the night. A distant howl carried in with the breeze, and I vaguely wondered if the mountain beasts ever came down to roam the town in the darkness.

“Good riddance, whore,” Mrs. Foxthorne hissed under her breath as I walked outside.

At this hour, the town was shut down and dark—except for The Sweet Siren. Piano music, singing, and laughter floated out of the establishment as I neared it, still struggling with my valises. The whole place was lit up, and I saw the figures moving around in front of the large front window. Miners and sirens.

Not far down the street, two lanterns glowed on the porch of The Bluebird Inn, but all the windows were dark. The owners of the hotel, Antonny and Sarah Bluebird, were likely fast asleep right now. I didn’t have the nerve to knock, and I moved back down the street toward The Sweet Siren again.

I felt lost. Stranded. And so very alone.

At this time last year, I’d just arrived in Orsleann with Logan. My heart had been full of hope. Hope for a new life in a new land. I’d even hoped to have a child soon. But no matter how hard we tried, it never came to pass during our short year together. Perhaps that was a blessing. I couldn’t imagine trying to raise and provide for a child in Faircross all by myself. Especially now.

What would I do? Where would I go? The few gold pieces I had to my name wouldn’t get me more than a week at The Bluebird Inn.

I stumbled over something in the street. Probably a pile of manure, judging by the stench that reached me as my valises flew forward. One opened when it landed, and everything inside spilled onto the dirty road. I started to cry but stopped when I felt a hand on my shoulder, and in the next moment someone was lifting me up.

Heart racing, I spun around. Was a bandit going to rob me of my few gold pieces? Was he going to steal what little possessions I had left?

I stared up at one of the tallest males I’d ever seen and gasped. A minotaur, I realized, with huge bull horns. If he was a bandit, I wouldn’t stand a chance.

“Relax. Be calm, human female. I only wish to help you.”

In the darkness, I couldn’t make out his expression very well, but the kindness in his voice indeed put me at ease. Besides, if he planned to rob or harm me, wouldn’t he have done so already?

“Are you lost?” he asked.

“N-no, I’m… I have nowhere to go. I didn’t even do anything wrong, I…” I dissolved into sobs. I’d nearly been raped, and now I was truly homeless. The weight of my predicament made it difficult to breathe. When I’d eloped with the love of my life and traveled southwest across the ocean, I had certainly never planned on ending up stranded in a remote mining town, alone and nearly destitute.

“My name is Trevonn, and I’m a guard from the tavern. Let me help you with your belongings, and if you’d like, you can stay at The Sweet Siren tonight.”

“But I’m not a…” I stopped myself. I couldn’t say whore or even soiled maiden. Maybe some of the sirens had once been in my shoes, stranded with nowhere else to go. I couldn’t fault a woman for doing what she must to survive.

“I didn’t say you were.” He put my scattered belongings away and picked up both large valises as if they weighed nothing. “Come. Madame Sage will make sure you have a safe, warm place to sleep tonight. No one will hurt you. I give you my word.”

I took a deep breath and wiped away my tears. “All right. Th-thank you, Trevonn.”