Page 58 of Shifting Hearts 1
“It’s a pleasure to meet such beauty,” he whispered harshly.
She winced and backed away quickly, bumping into the man behind her, whose lap she’d just been astride.
“I’m looking for the proprietor of this establishment.”
Conrad cleared his throat and stepped out from behind the bar, wiping his hands on the same rag he’d just been using to clean. He approached the nobleman and bowed before him in respect.
“I’m the proprietor here. Conrad is my surname. Your presence is an unexpected pleasure, Your Grace.”
The duke’s footman snapped his fingers expectantly. “We require a sample of your finest wares, Mr. Conrad.”
Nobility was an exception to crack open a fresh barrel of bourbon. He deftly placed a screw against the center of the wooden bung and tapped it a few times with a mallet. Once the wood cracked, he twisted and yanked the handle quickly, to avoid splinters falling into the liquor. If he were serving the barrel to his patrons, he would install a spigot. To serve the liquor over time, instead, he scooped the amber liquid with a ladle and gingerly poured it into the cup.
Sweat beaded across his brow, as he passed the cup to the duke’s man along with a smaller cup. The young man took a sip of his cup first, in a gesture that was recognized. Conrad didn’t produce poison, but any liquor could kill a man in excess.
The duke gracefully lifted the metal cup to his thin lips and took a fair sip. Conrad’s eyes lowered to his Adam’s apple as he swallowed the sample. The man made a noise of appreciation.
“Rich and well-balanced,” he noted. “Perfect for indulging oneself. What is the age?”
“This particular barrel is aged four years.”
“How many barrels do you have in store?”
“Five, sir,” he provided.
“Very well,” the duke replied. “Deliver them to my estate on the morrow.”
“Of course, Your Grace.”
“I’m hosting a dinner party in the evening. Dress in your finery and serve us. If my guests enjoy your wares as much as I have, you’ll be welcome as my guest.
Conrad bowed. “You honor me, sir. I shall deliver promptly to your estate.”
The duke was gone in a flash, like a thief in the night. Conrad stood in the doorway and watched as the carriage, drawn by strong black stallions, disappeared into the thick fog.
A sale this big was worth celebrating. The unmarried tavern owner took one of the serving wenches to bed that evening. His carnal appetite was barely quenched and the poor girl wouldn’t be able to sit down for days after he was done with her.
The next evening, Conrad dressed in the only suit he owned. It was neither tailored nor dapper, but he hoped that it was met with approval. He hired two strong men from town to help him with his delivery, as well as a large carriage pulled by six horses. It was another dark and gloomy evening, though not unusual for the season.
The carriage was halted by a guard at the gate. After explaining why he was there, the man moved aside, but the horses refused to trot further. Though frustrated, even Conrad felt the menacing energy that seemed to surround the duke. He swallowed his apprehension as the hair on the back of his neck stood up.
“Don’t worry, Mr. Conrad,” the guard assured him. “Our servants will assist your men in unloading the wares. It’s best if you continue on foot and not keep His Grace waiting.”
The guard pointed in the direction of the manor. With each step, Conrad was sure he should turn around. The moonlight illuminated his path as there were very few torches lighting the side of the packed lane leading up to the home. An unnatural haze settled over the grounds, adding to the sense of foreboding.
He was informed it was an intimate gathering, even then, the grounds seemed devoid of the jovial atmosphere he expected.Conrad was led to the manor’s front door, while the casks entered through the kitchen and were stored in the cellar.
Before Conrad could be announced, a young, shrieking maiden collided with his broad chest.
“Please, sir,” she pleaded as he grabbed her arms to steady her. “Help me. These wicked devils took me captive.”
“Are you all right?” he asked, searching her frightened eyes.
“Please,” she wheezed. “Save me.”
Her disheveled hair stuck to her cheeks, cemented by tears. Terror adorned her tear-streaked face as she trembled against him.
“Mr. Conrad,” he hissed seductively as he entered the foyer. “Now that our guest of honor has arrived, the party may begin.”
