Second Debt
Page 33
I had no reply and sat very still as the animal in front of me nudged my leg again. In one demanding move, the horse shoved its way into my heart and I slid straight into love with the beautiful dapple grey. Its huge glossy eyes spoke of ancient worlds and kindness, and I had a vivid recall of my love of unicorns when I was younger.
I’d always wanted a pony—as most girls did. But living in central London and being daughter to a man focused only on textiles meant my dreams were directed into more practical things.
My memory of meeting Jethro with my nanny as chaperone came back.
I reached out to stroke the nose of my newfound love. “Unicorns do exist.”
My heart swelled as the horse snuffled my knee, its forelock flopping over one eye and catching in its thick eyelashes.
Jethro stiffened. “What did you just say?”
I glanced over, never taking my hand from my warm companion. I waited to see if recognition would flare in his eyes. Did he remember that brief meeting, too?
When I didn’t answer, he snapped, “Well?”
I shook my head. “Doesn’t matter.” Bringing the conversation back to a subject he obviously adored, I asked, “What’s his name?” I scratched the horse between its eyes, straining against my seatbelt to get closer.
Jethro never took his eyes off me. Something happened…something I couldn’t explain. The harshness, the frost in his mannerisms…they seemed to thaw a little. His head tilted, looking less tense and arctic than normal.
Butterflies spawned in my belly to see yet another side of him. Being around these beasts did something. It did more than relax him—it gave him a place to hide. He seemed to feed off the simplistic animal gentleness.
He took his time answering, but when he did, his voice was soft, beguiling. “Not him, her. Her name is Warriors Don’t Cry. But her nickname is Moth.”
Moth.
Soft-winged and subtly stunning. It was perfect. I wanted to keep her.
“And the other one?”
Jethro sat still, drinking in the black beast before him. “This is Fly Like The Wind. But he’s my wings, as I cannot fly, so I call him that.”
So, that’s Wings.
The one who carried Jethro away when he’d reached all that he could bear. A wash of gratefulness filled me to think that he had something that didn’t judge—didn’t try to control him with family tradition.
Perhaps, I should learn from Wings. Perhaps, I should look past the hatred and despair and look deeper. There was something redeemable inside Jethro.
I know it.
“When will you let me see?”
Jethro’s nostrils flared. “Pardon?”
Silent courage filled me from touching Moth, and for the first time, I laid it out plainly with no anger or resentment. “When will you tell me what the debts mean to your family? What is the point of all of this? How have you gotten away with it for so long—because the Debt Inheritance wouldn’t hold up in any court of law. How did your family go from serving my ancestors to owning…” I waved my arm at the horses, encompassing the world outside the truck and Hawksridge.
I should’ve stopped there, but I had one last question. A burning question that I would give anything to know. “Why can’t I hate you for what you are? Why can’t I stop myself from wanting you? And why am I still here? Playing these games and believing that in the end, it won’t be my head in a basket and you holding an axe, but something entirely different?”
Thick silence fell between us. Only the snuffles of Wings and Moth broke the tension clouding thicker with every breath.
Finally, Jethro murmured, “If I do the job I’m supposed to, you won’t earn a single answer to your questions, nor learn anything about me.”
“You’re not doing a good job then,” I whispered. “Because I already know more about you than you think.”
He rolled his shoulders. “I have no doubt that in time you’ll learn everything you want to know.”
“Including your secrets?” I whispered again, filling my voice with feeling. “Will you trust me enough to show me the truth?”
He looked away, tugging the forelock of his horse. “That, Ms. Weaver, is like blindly believing in unicorns. You can’t be mad at me, when in the end, you find out they never existed.”
I gasped.
He did remember.
He murmured beneath his breath, “I suggest you focus on reality and stop looking for magic in a world that only wants to destroy you.”
Silence fell like a heavy curtain, slicing between us and putting an end to all connection.
We stayed quiet the remainder of the journey.
POLO WAS THE only contact sport I enjoyed.
Hunting was a solo pastime—something that was both a hobby and a curse. But riding and being around horses had been my one saving grace as a kid.
Still was.
I permitted myself a brief second where I leaned against Wings and breathed in his musky scent. My heart rate hadn’t equalized ever since we’d arrived an hour ago.
What the hell had happened in the carrier coming here? Why had Nila chosen that exact moment to bombard me with questions that had every power to skin me alive?
Jasmine had been wrong to say I had to make Nila fall in love with me. I’d tried—I’d spun some concoction in the shower about her fabricating a web and capturing a Hawk. It’d sounded ridiculous and so unlike me that Nila’s eyes had widened, noticing my slip.
There would be no seducing her with deception. No winning her with tricks. If I wanted her to fall in love with me—to grant me another way of fixing myself and being able to survive the next ten months until my inheritance took place—I would have to let her inside me.
I’d always wanted a pony—as most girls did. But living in central London and being daughter to a man focused only on textiles meant my dreams were directed into more practical things.
My memory of meeting Jethro with my nanny as chaperone came back.
I reached out to stroke the nose of my newfound love. “Unicorns do exist.”
My heart swelled as the horse snuffled my knee, its forelock flopping over one eye and catching in its thick eyelashes.
Jethro stiffened. “What did you just say?”
I glanced over, never taking my hand from my warm companion. I waited to see if recognition would flare in his eyes. Did he remember that brief meeting, too?
When I didn’t answer, he snapped, “Well?”
I shook my head. “Doesn’t matter.” Bringing the conversation back to a subject he obviously adored, I asked, “What’s his name?” I scratched the horse between its eyes, straining against my seatbelt to get closer.
Jethro never took his eyes off me. Something happened…something I couldn’t explain. The harshness, the frost in his mannerisms…they seemed to thaw a little. His head tilted, looking less tense and arctic than normal.
Butterflies spawned in my belly to see yet another side of him. Being around these beasts did something. It did more than relax him—it gave him a place to hide. He seemed to feed off the simplistic animal gentleness.
He took his time answering, but when he did, his voice was soft, beguiling. “Not him, her. Her name is Warriors Don’t Cry. But her nickname is Moth.”
Moth.
Soft-winged and subtly stunning. It was perfect. I wanted to keep her.
“And the other one?”
Jethro sat still, drinking in the black beast before him. “This is Fly Like The Wind. But he’s my wings, as I cannot fly, so I call him that.”
So, that’s Wings.
The one who carried Jethro away when he’d reached all that he could bear. A wash of gratefulness filled me to think that he had something that didn’t judge—didn’t try to control him with family tradition.
Perhaps, I should learn from Wings. Perhaps, I should look past the hatred and despair and look deeper. There was something redeemable inside Jethro.
I know it.
“When will you let me see?”
Jethro’s nostrils flared. “Pardon?”
Silent courage filled me from touching Moth, and for the first time, I laid it out plainly with no anger or resentment. “When will you tell me what the debts mean to your family? What is the point of all of this? How have you gotten away with it for so long—because the Debt Inheritance wouldn’t hold up in any court of law. How did your family go from serving my ancestors to owning…” I waved my arm at the horses, encompassing the world outside the truck and Hawksridge.
I should’ve stopped there, but I had one last question. A burning question that I would give anything to know. “Why can’t I hate you for what you are? Why can’t I stop myself from wanting you? And why am I still here? Playing these games and believing that in the end, it won’t be my head in a basket and you holding an axe, but something entirely different?”
Thick silence fell between us. Only the snuffles of Wings and Moth broke the tension clouding thicker with every breath.
Finally, Jethro murmured, “If I do the job I’m supposed to, you won’t earn a single answer to your questions, nor learn anything about me.”
“You’re not doing a good job then,” I whispered. “Because I already know more about you than you think.”
He rolled his shoulders. “I have no doubt that in time you’ll learn everything you want to know.”
“Including your secrets?” I whispered again, filling my voice with feeling. “Will you trust me enough to show me the truth?”
He looked away, tugging the forelock of his horse. “That, Ms. Weaver, is like blindly believing in unicorns. You can’t be mad at me, when in the end, you find out they never existed.”
I gasped.
He did remember.
He murmured beneath his breath, “I suggest you focus on reality and stop looking for magic in a world that only wants to destroy you.”
Silence fell like a heavy curtain, slicing between us and putting an end to all connection.
We stayed quiet the remainder of the journey.
POLO WAS THE only contact sport I enjoyed.
Hunting was a solo pastime—something that was both a hobby and a curse. But riding and being around horses had been my one saving grace as a kid.
Still was.
I permitted myself a brief second where I leaned against Wings and breathed in his musky scent. My heart rate hadn’t equalized ever since we’d arrived an hour ago.
What the hell had happened in the carrier coming here? Why had Nila chosen that exact moment to bombard me with questions that had every power to skin me alive?
Jasmine had been wrong to say I had to make Nila fall in love with me. I’d tried—I’d spun some concoction in the shower about her fabricating a web and capturing a Hawk. It’d sounded ridiculous and so unlike me that Nila’s eyes had widened, noticing my slip.
There would be no seducing her with deception. No winning her with tricks. If I wanted her to fall in love with me—to grant me another way of fixing myself and being able to survive the next ten months until my inheritance took place—I would have to let her inside me.
