Chapter 22

"GGAAHHAAASHHH!!!"

The incoherent cry wrenched from my throat. All my anger, heartache, and misery that I'd spent years burying under calm, disciplined control... of trying to do what was right, even if it left me feeling wretched and inadequate... of praying it would end eventually... everything I'd held in, afraid to let show... came ripping out of me in one terribly liberating wail.

I collapsed in on myself, fisting my hands against the couch, letting the gut-wrenching sobs break free. I let the pain take me this time. I didn't try to maintain control. I didn't try to be good. I didn't try to be strong anymore. Because... why? Why had I put myself through all of it? Allowing the marquis to whip me bloody... to use my body... to imprison me in his home. When the money wasn't needed—except to satisfy papa's greed for a comfortable life?

Oh, gods, oh gods, oh gods. Why? Why?

"—eathe, Kye. I know you're upset, but you have to—" I felt hands on me trying to pull me up. They were scalding me, forcing me to move, to calm down, when all I wanted to do was to get away.

A sudden panic coursed through me at losing control, at fighting back. Oh, gods, what kind of punishment had I just provoked?

"No, no, no... please," I whispered, struggling to throw off the grip, desperate to escape. In doing so, I managed to end up on the floor, squeezed between the table and couch. I barely even registered a stab of pain radiating from my sliced palm when my hand hit the floor. My blurred vision only saw that I was hemmed in on all sides, with hands reaching for me again. Squirming away from the grasping hands between the table and couch didn't seem to be freeing me very quickly.

Someone was still talking, trying to grab me. Words were buzzing around me like a nest of stirred up hornets.

"—he's upset, falling apart on me..." A familiar voice.

A shove at the table sent the bowl of grapes to the floor. A small shriek echoed in the room. From me? Or... someone else... somewhere? I shook my head. It didn't matter. I just needed to escape...

"I'll fetch the master..." a female voice, high and alarmed.

Thundering footsteps had me cowering against the side of the couch. "I'm here. What happened?" Oh. That deep baritone thrummed through me...

"Sir, I was just coming to change the bedding—" the meek girl's voice started.

"Not you, Amelia. Kye..." The soothing voice was closer—but not close enough.

"He—he broke down... we were talking... our father—" Tareth's voice started but faded out as he jabbered out a quick explanation. I was too busy struggling to crawl away to listen, to get untangled from the mess of clothes constricting me, hoping to escape punishment for breaking, for screaming...

...breathe... I knew I needed to... I wanted to... but sobs choked out the air I tried to force in.

Finally, I managed to crawl free of the table and couch trying to trap me in, and I started clawing at the collar of my shirt.

... too tight... can't breathe...

Buttons popped loose as I ripped it open.

"Kye!"

I froze momentarily at the sharp tone. But I need air... I wanted...

Hands pulled me up, and I fought the confining grip. "No, no, no...I can't..."

Large, strong fingers encased both of my hands in one tight grip as his other cupped the back of my neck, firm yet tender. "Kye. Focus. Breathe."

Those compelling words spoken in that deep baritone I loved to hear rumbled close to my ear. The calm, soothing tone washed over me as he gently rubbed circles against my neck with his thumb.

It took a few shaky, keening breaths before I could gather myself enough to actually see the man I knew was standing before me, to remember where I was. He had pulled my captured hands against his chest, bringing me closer as well. Tears still dripped from my chin, but his presence slowly assuaged me, as it had before.

"Ash. Sir." I breathed out a harsh breath before a hiccupping sob stuttered in my chest.

He smiled. "Good."

I blinked at him incoherently. Good? I'd been fighting him, screaming in his home, knocking over dishes... how was that good? I hadn't been that out of control since my first days with the Marquis.

"I'm s-sorry." I wondered what kind of castigation I had earned myself. I prayed Lord Ashton wouldn't be as angry as Lord Barrett had been when delivering discipline.

My body started shaking again, but I didn't feel afraid. I was nervous about my punishment, but somehow I knew the viscount wasn't going to truly hurt me—because he never had before.

"He's shaking," Lord Ashton said with a glance over his shoulder, his brows knitted.

"Probably a bit of shock," a voice behind him stated.

I startled, realizing suddenly there were several other people in the room: Dr. Fulbert, Tareth, a girl I didn't recognize, as well as another man lingering in the doorway.

"... Will, you can go. Thank you," Dr. Fulbert dismissed the man at the door, who nodded quickly and left. Then the doctor turned back to Ashton as he moved toward the door himself. "Get him to the bed before he collapses. I'll go order some herbal tea, maybe bring a draught to help calm him."

The girl abruptly darted forward, scooping up a pile of linens that I was sure hadn't been there before. Had she come in to change the sheets just before I fell apart?

"Oh, please... let me finish changing—"

"Not now, Amelia," Ash ordered. He released my hands now that I wasn't fighting him and wrapped an arm around my shoulders. I took a shuddering breath as he drew me in. I buried my face in his chest, sighing as solid arms engulfed me protectively...even reverently.

I peeked over Ash's bicep at the girl, her frown at the bed looked like she was about to argue. She obviously didn't want to leave dirty sheets on the bed. But I just wanted her out.

I surprised myself, and apparently the viscount as well when I said, "Go. Please."

Ashton chuckled, his hands tightening around my back, one hand stroking down my spine. "Come back after supper. He needs to rest now."

"Yes, sir." She finally nodded, bustling out of the room.

"I'm sorry," I repeated hoarsely, unsure of what had come over me to even think about telling her what to do. And why was Ash so calm, almost happy? Why wasn't he yelling at me for disrupting his day, disturbing his staff?

"I'm so sorry, sir. It's my fault," Tareth started as he wrung his hands together. "I upset him—"

"Stop apologizing. Both of you." Ash growled. He squeezed me tightly again, before surprising me with a chaste kiss to the top of my head. I savored the tender hold, luxuriating in a touch that wasn't painful, that was almost... loving.

Ash gently turned me toward the bed, catching me as I stumbled, dazed. He practically lifted me onto the bed when I struggled to climb up.

I slowly curled up on my side, my hands tucked under my chin, as I looked up at him hesitantly. "You're—you're... not mad?"

A huge grin broke across Ashton's face before he laughed—a deep, hearty laugh—causing me to gasp in shock. He surprised me even more when moved to sit on the edge of the bed, his legs stretched out next to me.

"Mad? Hell, no. You needed this. You needed to break that man's fucking training." He brushed his hand through my hair before wiping away remnants of tears. "I was hoping something would finally crack through that damn stoic control you insist on maintaining."

He was?

"You're free of him, Kye," Ashton said softly, brushing a thumb across my jaw, absently sifting his fingers through my hair. I ducked my face into the covers, my cheek nearly rubbing against his firm thigh. I didn't want him to see how much I was enjoying this, his touch, his reassuring voice, just his presence—here, for me. I was afraid he'd leave. "I know you've suffered horribly," he was saying, swallowing thickly, "but I want to help you through this. Let me be there to help you."

I held my breath for several long moments, still unable to believe this man would choose to help me, to maybe even want me.

I nodded against his leg.

He smiled and leaned over. "Good." He placed a chaste kiss on my cheek.

I snuck my hand up, brushing over the tingling sensation his lips had left on my skin, as I curled up into my protective ball with a small smile.

"All is well, Reth. Don't worry," Ashton was saying. "He needed this. He's been holding so much inside, it's good that he finally let go."

"Gods, sir... I—I was scared... he was falling apart, and I couldn't do anything to help him," Tareth choked. "He couldn't even breathe."

"I believe he's fine now. In fact, I think he'll be better than fine. Yes, he may have fallen apart, but we will all be here to help him pick up the pieces—and hopefully throw away those that Barrett—"

"And my father," Tareth added.

"...And your father damaged," Ashton finished in agreement. "He's going to need you more than ever now."

"As well as you, sir," Tareth's voice sounded rather reverent and amused.

Ash's fingers paused their caressing. "I hope so, Reth. I hope so."

My heart fluttered in my chest. I know I already did.

****

I woke to a rustling sound and had a moment of panic. The bed was empty next to me. Ash was gone. I had fallen asleep next to him sitting on the bed. I vaguely remembered soft lips brushing my jaw again before he'd mumbled an apology. But I was aware of the cold vastness he'd left next to me. The luxurious softness I was swaddled in wasn't enough to replace the comfort of his presence. But Ash's kiss lingering on my cheek and his gentle words reminded me quickly I was safe here—even if he wasn't right next to me.

My pleasure was quelled, though, as I slowly remembered what had driven me back to the bed in the first place.

My papa. My own father had basically sold me to the marquis, indifferent to my well-being. He had never visited, never checked on my welfare. He'd never even told me mama had passed away. And he kept me from seeing Tareth all those years ago.

I dragged the thick blanket over my head, burrowing deeper, as if that would make it all go away. The ache in my chest at my father's betrayal, how much he must hate me to feel nothing at leaving me...

I choked on another sob. I didn't feel like this ache would ever go away. It was worse than any pain the marquis had ever inflicted. Because this was caused by someone who should have at least cared a little for me, for his youngest son.

The rustling stopped with a soft thump, and I felt a hand rubbing my back through the blanket. I peeked out from my cocoon, focusing my red-rimmed eyes on my brother. He was setting a book down on the table next to the bed as he continued his comforting touch.

"Hi." Tareth smiled sympathetically.

I forced a weak smile in return. "Hi."

"Nice nap?"

I nodded, not wanting to come out of my nest. Ever.

I knew that wasn't possible though. I did want to talk more with Tareth. Not about papa, but about his life here, with the Sterlings. And I did want to see Ashton again, and not in an hysterical fit.

"Good. I was worried. Lord Ashton was able to help you when I couldn't. He stayed with you for so long before he was needed elsewhere... I've never seen him like that before."

Warmth rushed over me at his words.

Tareth moved to sit on the edge of the bed next to me as I eventually shoved the covers down to my chest. He seemed anxious all of a sudden. He sounded broken. "I'm sorry about papa. I can't help but feel like it's—"

"It's not your fault, Tareth."

"I know, I know, but still... I feel I have to say it. I know he was always a bit of a bastard to you... He never saw everything I saw in you. All he could see was his own desires. He didn't care, really, about either one of us..."

I opened my mouth to protest. Papa had loved Tareth.

"I know you think he favored me over you. And he did, but only because I was bigger, stronger. Because I could help him more with the farm. I think that's why he was bitter that I wanted to leave with the Count that day. It's why he wheedled me into giving him more and more money when mama got sick, even though he was getting some from... the marquis as well. And I just had to tell you how sorry I am he did that to you, that I couldn't help you."

Silent tears leaked from the corners of my eyes, matching his, but I could only nod in agreement. He was right. Our father had always looked out for his own interests first. He loved mama, but I think he viewed us as a burden.

I really wasn't ready for another conversation about our father or the marquis right now. I'm not sure Tareth was either. I rolled to my back, struggling to sit up.

"I'm only grateful that Lord Ashton found you and brought you here."

I was too, although at the time I wasn't. But I didn't think Tareth would want to hear what I had been feeling at the time.

"He's a good man, and he... he seems to really... care about you," he mumbled thoughtfully.

I didn't know what to say to that. I didn't want to admit my hopes aloud yet. It was all too new, and I was still afraid it wasn't quite real—that it would dissolve instantly if I let myself believe it.

"Maybe you can show me the stables?" I suggested.

Tareth grinned at the sudden change of subjects but shook his head. "Not today. You're to stay off your feet, remember?"

I frowned. Oh, that's right.

"But... I can tell you other things about the Sterling estate." He beamed as he moved further up onto the bed to settle more comfortably. "You should know the gossip on everyone now that you're going to be living here."

As he started chattering about all of the people who worked in and around the estate, I slowly relaxed and found myself laughing at some of the anecdotes about his fellow servants, especially Marcus, his mentor and best friend.

He was happy. As I'd always hoped he was.

Maybe now... I could be happy too...