Page 25 of Impenitent Claim

Stupid girl that I was, I moaned around the soft, succulent apple as the rich spices burst over my tongue in a complex palate of flavor. Taking food from a stranger, a man that basically admitted to stalking me, was as dumb as could be. This could be drugged or poisoned.

But I continued to nibble on it, flirting with the danger that this man presented because I was hungry. There would be nothing until dinner, and that would likely be chicken cooked without oil and fat, bland and flavorless on a bed of greens.

“Who are you? And what do you want?” I breathed.

The stranger simply watched me.

“Look, if you’re here to cause trouble with my…family, I can’t help you. I’m not the heiress, nor do I have any real power orinfluence.” I popped the last bite of apple tart in my mouth, wishing there was more.

“Ah, little siren, you have more power in your little finger than most men have in their whole body,” he breathed, taking a step forward.

My heart skipped a beat. I looked up into his face, searching desperately for an answer. This stranger was here to cause trouble, and as much as part of me, the part buried in the box with my parents screamed to let him, I needed to think of the consequences of my actions.

“I don’t know if you’re doing this for power or because you think you’re in love with me, but you can’t. I’m spoken for. The best thing for you is to forget about me. Take my warning as a thank you for all your thoughtfulness. Stay away, I’m no one worth dying over.”

“You are far from a nobody."

That simple emotion set off a maelstrom of emotions.

I reeled them back long enough to choke out, “I have to go now. Please…leave me alone.”

The idea of someone who’d done something nice for me being hurt because of it—no matter his reasons for doing it in the first place—made my chest ache. I turned and darted back through the store. Just in time too! The strega was marching toward the bathroom to look for me.

I made up a quick excuse about seeing linens on my way from the lady’s room, and when she didn’t believe me, I moved to show her.

“I read an article about one of the Hilston girls having a pair just like them from Belgium nuns.” I lied through my teeth, hoping against hope the witch bought it.

Cecilia pursed her lips, rubbing the material between her fingers. “We’ll send to Belgium for the real thing. I won’t have it said that the Bruno family buys cheap knockoffs.”

Lifting my gaze, I swept the space. The tingle in my spine was gone. Hopefully, my stalker received the message and that was the end of that nonsense. The Brunos were my life, the only way to make sure my brother remained safe. Any other adventure was impossible.

Chapter 12 – Isabella

What I knew about my stalker was that he was big and mysterious. But damn did he have good taste. I lovingly stroked the new cotton throw. It took a bit of care not to let any of the blowing leaves catch in the fibers of the knit, but I was cozy, wrapped in the blanket, and had been out here for an hour before the appointed time. My guards were no doubt fuming, but playing a silly ditz who’d gotten the time wrong was par for the course with me. It meant I could enjoy some alone time in the pumpkin patch, away from the mansion, the ever-present strega, and the damn wedding planning.

It meant I could have a moment to pretend I was a normal girl.

Not that normal girls were gifted their favorite things by strange men spying on them.

Too bad I told him to stop. I sighed. Why did my bliss have to end? Even if I wasn’t being forced into a political marriage, having a stalker was creepy. Knowing that someone came into my room, night after night to leave me thoughtful tokens should have bothered me. It didn’t. Was it because I grew up in a criminal family? My earliest memories were those of beingexposed to dangerous men. I was no doubt numb to threats. Or maybe my situation was so bad that this seemed the lesser of two evils.

This was a twisted game; he was here for something. While I wanted to know what that was, I didn’t want him to be hurt by the Made Men. So I’d allowed him to play it longer than he should have.

And then, last week, I ended it. He hadn’t come back. There had been no more presents left in the middle of the night.

An ache tightened in my chest. It was good that it was done. I shouldn’t be growing fond of an intruder, however…this man was anything but a red flag. He brought me my favorite things. He…took care of me.

No one did that.

And dammit, I liked having someone think of me and my wants.

It had to end. Such a scandalous interaction couldn’t continue with my impending marriage. But a few more days being the center of someone else’s attention would’ve been nice.

Now there was nothing left to do but lose myself to the pages of a fantasy world and watch how another orphaned girl dealt with the hungry power players in her world. At least the lost queen had friends, strange allies though they were. I sipped the hot cider, which had been left the other night with a basket of treats. It’d been a game of Mission Impossible to discreetly warm and place the cider in my thermos before leaving the house. It was the last sweet treat, and I was savoring the crisp flavor. The page of my Kindle flipped to the part where the witchling emerged as the leader of the combined clans of witches with her faithful wyvern. From past reads of this series, I knew she would be a powerful ally. I wished I had one. I probably read this series three times, but after skipping parts I didn’t like, and reading the parts I did over and over, it was hard to say.

Yep, I was one of those romantasy girlies who escaped to the pages of books when the troubles in her life became unbearable. Reading really was better than therapy, not that a therapist would believe the Greek tragedy that was my life. My reality was the stuff of fiction.

A laugh barked in my throat at that, and I let another half hour pass pleasantly enough.

---