Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 103712 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 519(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103712 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 519(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
“The storm made you jimmy our lock?”
“It wasn’t locked,” she protested. “I swear.”
The blond glanced back at the long-haired one who casually lifted a shoulder. He appeared the most civilized, but she wasn’t fooled. She could see every muscle under his designer wool sweater. And his ice-blue eyes were unreadable as an Arctic sky.
“Ah.” The blond nodded. “So, because the door was open, you felt entitled to steal from us?”
“I’m not a thief!” The denial burst from her with more force than wisdom.
“No?” The quiet, threatening one finally spoke, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through her bones and settled in places she didn’t want to examine. With his fist still buried in the mattress, he could grab her leg in one quick lunge. “Then what would you call someone who enters a home uninvited, consumes the owners’ food, wears their clothes, and sleeps in their bed?”
Heat flooded her cheeks like spilled wine. When he catalogued her transgressions so clinically, they did sound like theft. But what choice did she have? The alternative was freezing to death.
“I was dying,” she confessed, lifting her chin with more defiance than she felt. “Would you have preferred to discover my corpse at your doorstep?”
The long-haired man’s grin widened with predatory appreciation. “That depends.”
“On?”
“How you’re willing to pay for our hospitality.”
Was this what they considered hospitable? It was difficult not to scoff, but she wanted to live. The tone of his statement made her skin crawl with dread and unwelcome heat.
“I don’t have any money. I lost everything—”
“There are other ways.” The man with long dark hair dropped his gaze to her legs as the blonde circled to the side of the bed.
Marigold’s head snapped toward him like trapped prey tracking a hunter. His clean-shaven appearance did nothing to ease her tension. Every muscle in his body, all the way to his perfectly edged jawline, spoke of controlled discipline. Nothing about this man was unintentional, and something in his poised presence told her he’d witnessed horrible things in his life, things that would have made weaker men beg.
He stared down at her with cold-blooded detachment. “You’ve put us in quite the position, little thief.”
“Don’t call me that.”
“What should we call you then?” The long-haired one moved close enough that she could see his eyes. They were the most exotic green she’d ever seen, like pine needles under ice. “We all know you’re name’s not really Mary.”
Did they? Wait. How? That was impossible. Even as Marigold, people sometimes called her Mari. She instinctively reached for her pocket, forgetting for a moment that she’d changed clothes. Shit. Where had she left her documents?
“Lose something?”
Her lips hardened. “I’m Mary. Mary Langford.” She tried not to tremble under their combined scrutiny. “I lost most of my belongings at sea, but my ID was with my clothes. It’s here.”
“Right.” The quiet one said, but his acceptance felt more like an accusation. “And what brings Mary Langford to our little corner of paradise?”
“I told you. The storm—”
“Drove you to our island specifically?” The blond’s smile could have cut crystal. “How convenient. Tell me, little lamb, how did you even know this place existed?”
The question struck too close to the dangerous truth. “I…I lost control. I nearly capsized. It’s not like I planned this.”
Her stolen invitation still rested in the real Mary’s coat pocket, and if they found it, they would know her story was a lie, but it seemed safer than her original plan, if this was, in fact, the Isles of Kassel and by some miracle she made it to her destination.
“I’m not even sure where I am.” She continued, forcing her expression to remain neutral despite the panic clawing her insides.
“So, you were just out exploring, on a bitterly cold night like last night?”
Of course, they didn’t believe her. “I had no idea anyone lived here,” she said with manufactured lightness, brushing over their suspicions.
The dark-haired man moved to flank her other side. She was fully surrounded. “Exploring? In an ice storm that could have killed you, in designer clothes and heels that cost more than most people earn annually?”
They’d seen her clothes. Did that mean they also saw her paperwork? Her shoes must have washed up on the coast overnight. These men missed nothing, catalogued everything, and stored details like ammunition.
“I wanted to get away,” she said, keeping her lies as near to the truth as possible.
“From?” the quiet one asked with clinical precision.
Marigold’s pulse hammered in her throat hard enough to make her dizzy. They were too close, too observant, and too intelligent. The walls contracted around her, closing her in, making it difficult to breathe.
One foot before the other, Marigold. She pictured her mother’s voice, waiting for the calm to push back her creeping panic. You can do anything you—
“We asked you a question.”
Her calm receded with the fading memory of her mother’s gentle support as they bore into her with the demanding question. But she was used to being bullied.