Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 86360 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86360 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
Christ, why didn’t I notice before? Her eyes are a bit sunken, her skin so pale she looks like a newly-hatched sprite.
“Why haven’t you eaten?” I demand harshly. I’m not angry with her, but I’m furious I’ve a woman in front of me literally starving to death.
Her gaze hardens. “I’d think it obvious. I had no food.”
“The old man left you with nothing to eat?”
“Not nothing,” she says. “But if you recall, he died last month. We had stores put aside, but I’ve eaten every bit of them. It was why I visited the garden shed to begin with. I wondered if he’d left anything there.”
“Did he?”
“No...no food.” She bites her lip, as if she’s said too much.
No food. Are the records his then?
Still holding her gaze, I take my mobile out of my pocket, and make a quick call. Douglas, one of our servants, answers.
“Yes, sir?”
“I want a tray of food brought to my room within five minutes.”
We’ve a kitchen that rivals the best restaurants in all of Ireland. They’ll bring food, and promptly.
“Five minutes, sir?”
“Waste no time. I don’t care what it is. Cut slabs of bread and cheese if necessary, but food and water’s to be delivered as fast as you can.”
“Yes, sir. Of course, sir.”
She looks down when I hang up the phone, capturing her lips between her teeth. Fucking hell, I can’t believe the lass is literally starving.
It angers me her father left her bereft, and that right here, in one of the most wealthy villages in all of Ireland, the lass is starving to death under our very noses. What possessed him to keep her apart from the rest of the world? Was he as insane as we all gave him credit?
I will not question her further until she’s eaten.
Next, I call Sebastian, our clan’s private doctor. We don’t risk notice of the authorities when injured. Sebastian treats us promptly and thoroughly.
“Yes, sir?”
“How might one go about feeding someone who’s been starving?”
“Well,” he says thoughtfully. I can picture him stroking his chin. It’s not a common question, I’d think, but at the same time, he’s used to answering anything and everything from us. Waking in the middle of the night to tend to gunshot wounds or lacerations will do that to someone, I suppose.
“I’d go slowly, and introduce small, manageable meals that are nutritionally dense.” I nod, even though he can’t see me. “Of course, be sure hydration is prioritized as well. How long has said person been starving?”
“A few days.”
“Then it’s likely the same as coming off a fast,” he says. “Was it likely he or she was malnourished before there was no food at all?”
“Highly likely.”
“Then we’ll want to get some vitamins in and good, nourishing food.”
“Aye. I’ve ordered food brought for now, but I want you to call the kitchen and tell them to prepare what you think best for this evening and tell them I gave the order.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Thank you.”
A knock comes at the door, and I quickly retrieve the food.
I hang up the phone and turn to her. But she doesn’t care about my conversation. Her eyes are riveted on the tray in my hand, piled with the food I ordered.
“Oh, my,” she whispers, licking her lips. “Oh, that looks so good.”
“I’m going to unfasten your cuffs so you can eat. Don’t you dare do anything stupid, or I’ll punish you. Firmly.”
She nods. I release her hands.
She wrings her hands in front of her as if she’s afraid I might turn and run with the tray. I slide it onto my desk.
“Come,” I order, crooking a finger at her. She stands on wobbly legs and makes her way to my desk. I lift the heavy chair and bring it with her, setting the chair in front of the desk. “Eat. Slowly. Drink some water as well. Have you had anything to drink?”
She shrugs. “A bit. After a time, it gets difficult to drink when you’re so hungry, though.”
Fair enough. I lean against the desk and watch her as she sits gracefully onto the chair. Even held prisoner, under my watchful eye, starving and afraid, she holds herself with the elegance of royalty.
She reaches for a slice of bread, but when she lifts the knife to butter it, her hand shakes. The knife clatters back to the tray.
“Give it here,” I say gruffly. She doesn’t protest as I take the knife and smear a thick layer of butter over the crusty bread. I hand her the bread. “Eat slowly.”
She doesn’t need to be told twice. I watch as her lips close around the bread, her eyelids flutter shut, and she moans out loud. “Mmmm,” she moans, the sound so guttural and hoarse, it’s damn near sexual. My mind is spinning with a world of possibilities.
If what she’s telling me is true, she’s never been outside. Never left her house. The world of men is completely foreign to her, for better or for worse. God almighty, the power that gives me…