The next morning came faster than Calantha had wanted. She hoped the nightmares were over or would she wake up to another one? No, fate couldn't be that cruel to her. She was sure everything was over. Her life was back to normal.
She would wake up on her comfy bed, and Sonia would be waiting for her as usual for a hot bath. She would ask for the water to be extra hot so she could wash away the stench of the nightmares from her body and mind.
After that, she would go to her father's study room to share the dream with him and Theo so they could laugh about how ridiculous it was. Lady Victoria's place was the next place on her list. They still had unfinished business about the wedding. They would discuss it and make final arrangements.
Yes, that was how her day was going to be. There would be no death, no ex-convict, no marriage cancellation, no farmhouse, no argument between her and Theo, no crying herself to sleep—or so she wished.
She stretched out on her supposed-to-be comfy bed, but it was surprisingly hard. Did she fall off while having those nightmares? Most likely. If so, then it was worth it because those dreams were horrendous.
She reached for her favourite fluffy pillow but instead, touched a rough surface. Okay, maybe she wasn't hugging it when she fell off the bed. In her foggy mind, she heard a faint noise in her room. Ah, that must be Sonia getting the hot water ready for her bath, "Sonia, make the water extra hot today, I had a bad dream," She spoke from the floor,
From where Ryder sat, his bushy brows shot up in slight amusement that vanished as quickly as it came, "You can make it as hot as you wish when you are ready," He replied, eyes fixed on the girl.
The familiar voice reached her ears. When did Sonia's voice get so deep and manly? "Sonia?" She called out, still struggling to open her eyes.
"Absent," Ryder replied again, wondering how many hours it would take the girl to open her eyes."
That was not Sonia or Theo. Theo's voice wasn't that deep. Or was it Duke Harold? Did he finally come to visit her after he stood her up the other day? But his voice wasn't that deep either.
When her eyes finally opened, she wished it never did. The first thing she saw was the crooked ceiling. That definitely wasn't the best first thing to see in the morning. She turned her aching head to the side and saw heavily booted legs.
"Good morning to you too," Ryder greeted,
Hit hard by reality, she quickly sat up. Indeed she was on the floor, but not in her room. So it was not a dream or a nightmare as she had hoped. Turning, she saw the man looking at her. He was real. The house was real. Her father's death was real. There was no Theo or Sonia or Duke Harold or even a wedding.
Tired and heartbroken, she hugged her knees to her chest with her head buried in between. She tried to calm the anger and frustration trying to choke her at the same time. Was fate going to torture her like that? Which direction had her life chosen to take? She was sure it wasn't the right one because everything happening to her didn't make sense.
"I can see you slept on the floor."
No response.
"Must have been uncomfortable."
"Just stop talking," She mumbled in between her legs, too disgusted to look up. One more look at the man might send her emptying her stomach contents.
"We didn't get to discuss properly yesterday," He continued, "I want to straighten something out. I understand in your world you make the rules and the rest of those shit you spoilt brats do, but now you are in another world. Another man's world, and that man is me, Ryder Walker. Things work differently in my world. I make the rules and you follow. I expect you to play your role accordingly without causing any drama."
"What roles?" She dared to ask, eyes glaring lasers at him. How dare the man talk as though he owned her?
"Your wifely duties."
"We are not married,"
"Not officially or would you rather have me say your servant duties?"
"Being a servant is better than being your wife,"
"From a lady to a servant? How shameful, I must say."
"It's still a better position," She gritted out.
"If you say so, I don't really give a damn about that. Choose whichever one that makes you feel better. A servant or a wife. All is good by me, so long as you play your role adequately without DRAMA," He dragged the last word, emphasizing it.
Oh, he has no idea what awaits him. If only he knew what the young woman had planned for him.
"I hate drama, do well not to create one."
Good, that was a great starting point. She added it to her list of things to do, "And if I create one? What will you do?"
One look at those green eyes told him she planned on doing otherwise. He relaxed into the chair, eyes scrutinizing, "The consequences would be for you and your brother to bear, and trust me you don't want to find out what I am capable of,"
She scoffed, eyes blazing with fury, "Is there something else you are good at apart from killing people?"
The room fell silent as the two stared at each other. "I wouldn't say that if I were you. Don't bring up my past."
She added it to her mental list of things to do. Bring up the past. "And if I do?"
"Then you will find out if there is something else I am good at apart from stabbing people and watching them take their last stinking breath," He folded his arms in front of his chest, one booted leg crossed over the other. He looked like it. The dangerous man people talked about.
She got the chills. For the millionth time, she was reminded of who the man was. A murderer. She was stuck with a murderer.
"I was trying to make a point before you interrupted. I believe you have been taught the duties of a wife as you were in the process of getting married to your duke," She didn't miss the distaste in the way he said, 'Duke,'
"You do your duties and stay out of my way while I do the same. As a wife or servant, I will provide for you in any way I can and protect you when I can—"
"I don't need anything from you. I don't want your provision or your protection."
"Didn't your late father teach you manners?"
"Don't you dare utter a word about my papa,"
"Seriously, he had one job, and he failed wofly." He blinked, daring her to do her worst as she sat there seething in anger.
He looked so relaxed as if he knew she couldn't do anything. Calantha saw red. How could he say such things about her father? She hated Lord Blackwood for putting her through trouble, but not enough to watch an uncultured and worthless man like Ryder speak ill of him. Her father was a legend! A man people respected and adored. Hearing him say things like that made her heart ache. If only he were still alive. "At least I am grateful he didn't teach me how to kill humans,"
"Did he teach you how to kill animals then?"
She glared at him. He wasn't trying to be funny, was he?
"Don't worry, I might help set you right a little bit. As you already know, there are no servants in this house,"
"This is not a house,"
"Do you have a better one?"
"You should be the last person to ask me that. You know we have mansions all over the town. Houses you would never in your entire life think of owning."
Ryder nodded. He still found it funny the girl knew nothing about her family's misfortune. "In this house, I expect you to do your things yourself. You want hot water? Go downstairs, light up the fucking stove and boil as much water as you want. You want food, go to the market, buy things and cook whatever it is you want to eat. There is no Sonia or whoever it is that wipes your bottom after taking a shit." Calantha winced. The man was indeed a barbarian. Too raw and vulgar for her liking. "Here, you are all on your own. That would be all for now,"
"Where is the carriage for transportation?"
"The local carriage is about twenty minutes away from here. If your legs are fast enough for the trekking, it will take just 15 minutes,"
"Local carriage? I can't be seen trekking, or worse, using the local carriage! You have to provide a carriage for me!"
"Seems those pretty little ears are quite faulty," He stood from the chair, "When you are ready to clean up, the bathroom is that way." He pointed to the adjoining room. "The water well is behind the house, and if you are still interested in the hot water for washing away your nightmares, you know where the kitchen is. Feel at home." He left the room, his heavy boots colliding harshly with the weak wooden floor.