Pressing my lips together, I don’t give them a smart-ass remark like, take a picture it’ll last longer, or ask them what the fuck they’re staring at, mostly because I’m kind of scared and I’m not sure they would understand me anyway.
“Jeremiah, Markus, Thatcher, and Samuel are now your personal guard. This is Birdie Collins,” Colt announces.
I start to stand, but Jeremiah lifts his hand and silently urges me not to. The men make their way around the table and all take a seat, Florence is across from me, and Colt is next to me at the head of the table. The men gather around the other side, including Ernest who sits dangerously close to Florence.
“A personal guard?” I ask as soon as Martha enters and starts to serve dinner to everyone around us.
Colt shifts his gaze from his men, and for the first time since walking into this room, his eyes find mine. “Personal guard. You are to go nowhere without them.”
“Is it that serious, Colt? I’m here, in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by hundreds of soldiers.”
He doesn’t even respond to my words. Instead, he jerks his chin, ignoring me for the rest of the evening. He doesn’t even look in my direction, let alone talk to me. I want to tell him to fuck off, but I don’t. I have a feeling it wouldn’t go over too well.
“Go to bed,” he says, after an hour of ignoring me.
He’s spoken to the men, to Florence, Martha, and Ernest, but nobody has said a fucking word to me, all taking their cues from him and his silence. Turning my head, I look up from my peach tart, unable to eat it because of this damn corset, and narrow my eyes.
“Pardon me?” I ask.
He smirks. “Go to bed.”
Deciding not to stay anywhere near him, I take his demand, his order and I follow it. I can feel the soldiers’ eyes following me and I don’t mistake the sound of a chair scooting as one of them stands from the table.
I can hear his footsteps behind me, but I don’t turn around, at least not yet. I’m trying to keep from hyperventilating and crying all at the same time, because I know that not only will it cause weather issues, but it will cause breathing problems, and I’ll probably pass out.
Once we’re in front of my bedroom door, only then do I spin around. “What was your name again?” I ask the tall, extremely handsome soldier.
He grins, showing me his white teeth and dimple. I almost swoon at that deep dimple embedded in his cheek.
“Jeremiah.”
Hot.
I can’t stop the way my cheeks probably turn pink at the way he says his name. He’s really handsome and I find that it’s weird to feel attracted to someone else.
Colt has been the only man on my mind for weeks, and honestly, I didn’t think that I could ever find someone else attractive, but here he is and here I am. Colt is being a dick and Jeremiah is hot with a dimple.
“I’m Birdie,” I offer, holding out my hand.
To my surprise, he doesn’t shake my offered hand, instead he wraps his fingers around mine and brings the back of my hand up to his mouth, brushing his lips over the surface of my skin, his eyes never leaving mine.
My chest feels tight, my body jerks at the sensation of his lips on my skin. I need to breathe. “Can you, um, can you ask Martha to bring up some of the main course from tonight?” I exhale.
He drops my hand, tilting his head to the side and his dimple disappears as his smile falls and he watches me, completely confused by my request.
“I can’t eat with this corset on. I’m starving,” I admit.
His eyes widen and he looks down to my waist, then lifts his gaze up to meet my own. “I didn’t realize.”
It’s as if he’s seeing for the first time. I have a feeling men don’t realize that these contraptions completely ruin a woman’s insides, that they squish everything together and make it extremely hard to eat, breathe, and live. I mean, sure they’re fine for a party or something, to look fan-freaking-fabulous in a dress, but everyday life? No thank you.
“I would appreciate it,” I say, giving him a small smile.
He dips his chin, his eyes finding mine and he holds my gaze. “You aren’t as I’d pictured when Colton told us about you.”
“How did you envision me?” I ask.
He presses his lips together as if he’s thinking, then shakes his head and for whatever reason decides not to let me in on his inner thoughts. Deciding not to make it weird and stare at him in silence, I turn and make my way into the bedroom to wait for Martha.
Unable to just sit on the bed, I walk over to the window and instead of looking toward the great expanse of darkness, I see tent after tent, plus torches as my view, for as far as the eye can see.
I wonder what life will be like here for the foreseeable future. Will it be awkward? Will it allow Colt to continue to push me away farther and farther?
As it is, every inch we move closer, he pushes me back several feet. Soon we’ll just be two people who take physical pleasure with one another and nothing else, and I have no doubt that won’t last long and then we’ll just be two people who live beneath the same roof.
Closing my eyes, I try not to cry. I want to go home. I chant to myself over and over again, but when I hear someone at the bedroom door, I’m no closer to being home and I find that I’m growing emptier and emptier inside every moment that I stay here.
COLT
Jeremiah almost runs into
