Call Her Mine (11 page)

He scoffed. “Those are
harmless concessions. Battery operated musical devices for Annalise and books
for Destiny. You are asking for something totally different. It is out of the
question.”

“I would not use it
unless I needed to.”

“Weapons wound, Adriel.
No.”

“And what do you believe
Sir will do if he ever finds me?”

“Do not call him that in
my presence. Giving him that title pays him an honor he does not deserve. He
will do nothing, because your family will protect you.”

“What family? The son
who asked me to leave his home?”

“I will protect you, the
elders, The Order. You are safe here.”

“I do not feel safe. I
am but a lamb waiting for the slaughter. He will come. I can sense it.” She
trembled and wrung her hands.

“You are not that young
girl anymore. You are an incredibly powerful female. He will not have such an
easy way of things if he chooses to cross your path again. You must have
confidence in yourself. This fearful manner you’re allowing to take hold is not
becoming.”

Rather than letting her
emotions win, she turned her fear to anger, turning on Eleazar. “I will kill
him, Eleazar. Let God punish me if I do. By my hand or by weapon, he will never
lay a finger on me again.”

Chapter Five

Delilah couldn’t think
anymore. Her brain hadn’t stopped working long into the night and things were
no longer making sense. Christian hadn’t come to his bedroom. The house was
quiet and she wondered if he had left. She should check and leave. But she
didn’t.

Her ladybug tattoo was
still fading. It was nothing more than a stain on her knuckle compared to what
it was a few days ago.

“Ladybug, ladybug, fly
away…” she sighed.

Her emotions were a
tornado of confusion, kicking up a mixture of feelings, turning her mind to
chaos, and leaving nothing in its proper place. Balling her fists, her knuckles
cracked.

Christian’s hat sat on
the floor, forgotten from their earlier fight. She thought about everything
she’d learned in the past few hours. Holding her hand out, palm facing the hat,
she opened her fingers, forcing her energy into her arm, directing all her
focus at the hat. It didn’t move.

She huffed.
No Jedi
mind tricks then.

Tipping her head back
she tapped it on the wall. What was she supposed to do? She hated him for doing
this to her, yet earlier, she’d almost had sex with him again. She preferred to
hate him.

Visions of his beautiful
face played in her mind. Her belly tightened when she remembered the way he
possessively rocked into her, intending to prove his virility. He had nothing
to prove. She knew he was all man. Too much man.

She’d been with men in
the past where everything revolved around sex and chemistry. This thing with
Christian went beyond that, even before he turned her. There was no explanation
for the intense way her body reacted to his. Potent need overpowered all
commonsense and she was very disappointed in her will power at the moment.

There would be no more
Mrs. Nice Girl. She needed to toughen up. She’d been wallowing in self-pity for
days and was growing sick of herself. It was time to focus on a plan and get
solution oriented. Screw everything else. Screw his rules. Screw that glint of
loneliness she sometimes detected in him. Basically, screw him. Only an idiot
would feel bad for a man that kidnapped her and stole her whole life.

Pathetic that the
saddest thing she would be leaving behind was her shop. She had friends, of
course, but they couldn’t even be bothered to show up on time. If they had,
maybe she wouldn’t be here now.

“Fuckers.”

No way was she just
going to roll over and take it up the ass. She saw the way he laid down the law
with his mom. He wanted Delilah to think he had compassion and was willing to
adjust to make things easier.

He was full of crap. She
saw who he really was when he’d put his foot down with Adriel. He was unbending
and pigheaded. He would never change. She was a fool to fall for all that “I’m
so sorry” crap. A million apologies still wouldn’t negate the fact that he
abducted her and expected her to obey like some domesticated animal.

The door opened and she
looked up.
Speak of the Devil.
She quickly blanked her mind.
Old
McDonald had a farm, E-I-E-I-O…

“I assumed you would be
sleeping,” he said, stepping into the room and shutting the door.

“Shocked you didn’t just
probe my mind for brain activity.”

He sighed. “Delilah, I
do not want to bicker. It is exhausting. I know you are upset about the way I
spoke to my mother, but she is a woman who presses all matters of propriety to
the brink. She must—”

Delilah made a choking
sound and gaped at him. “You think this is all about your mother? Wow, you
farmers really are slow.”

He stilled and gave her
an offended then hard look. “I have had enough of your jests, Delilah. Do not
start something you do not plan to finish.”

Ah, there was Captain
Bossy Pants.
“Pardon me for having an opinion. You’re so quick to tell me how
my personality could be improved. Should I share my compiled list for
your
flaws?
I call it The Asshole Chronicles.”

“Mind your tongue,
pintura.”

“Nope. I’m not going to
do that either. You want me as your mate? This is what you get.” She fanned out
her hands. “Tough luck if you’re disappointed. Should have thought about that
before you, you know, took my life without asking.”

His nostrils flared.
“You will only make things more difficult for yourself.”

“Right, because
everything’s been as easy as falling off a log so far.”

“It is easy to argue.
Your tongue is like a sword and your mind a dagger, but you will see. These
things are easy to start, like any war, but extremely difficult to end.”

“Oh, now you’re a
fortune cookie,” she said airily.

“Why are you such an
angry female?”

She guffawed. “Are you
serious? I wasn’t, before I met you. I’m actually quite nice to those who
deserve it.”

“Like the man in the
saloon?”

“It’s called a bar,
Swearengen. And that guy was a dickhead. Otherwise you wouldn’t have
interfered.”

“I interfered, because
you are my mate and he was male.”

Wow, she hadn’t thought
she could possibly feel more like a piece of meat. But that did the trick. “So
it has nothing to do with
me
then, just the fact that I’m
‘The One’
.”
She made air quotes, her expression the total opposite of the hurt she hid
inside.

“You are my mate,
Delilah. Like it or not, it is unchanging. I have apologized for not handling
things as best as I could, but I refuse to spend another day bickering over
things I cannot change. The past changes nothing. Get on with your grief so we
can get on with our lives.”

His words literally
knocked the breath out of her. Her head shook. He did not just say that. “Get
on with my grief? Is that what you just said?”

“It is enough already.”

“You are referring to
my
life!”

“Your life is here. The
sooner you accept that the better.”

She jumped to her feet
and screamed in his face,
“I will never accept that! I hate you! I hate what
you’ve made me and I hate knowing that I will be associated with you for the
rest of my life!
Which, by the way—bully for me—
is eternity!
Buckle
up, asshole, because it is going to be a loooooooong ride.”

She dropped back down to
the flats of her bare feet and stared at him as she panted. The bastard wasn’t
even breathing hard. His expression was blank. He simply studied her
indifferently.

“Goodnight, Delilah.” He
turned and left the room, shutting the door behind him. Her scream echoed off
the walls as she reached for the first thing she could find and lobbed it at
the door. The small wooden box holding pins smashed into a dozen pieces as
silver straight pins rained down. She fell to the floor and began to cry.

* * * *

Delilah sat at the
breakfast table tapping a brittle piece of bacon on her plate—
tap…tap…tap—
until
it decayed into a pile of charred pig.
Poor
Wilber.

He’d forgotten.

Looking down at her
greasy fingers, queasiness rolled through her stomach. She quickly brushed them
clean on her napkin.

“Do you not like eggs?”

“I don’t eat eggs.”

His shoulders drooped
and he sighed. “I had forgotten. I apologize. Would you like me to make you
some toast and jam?”

“Not hungry.”

“Delilah, you have to
eat.”

“Don’t wanna.”

He exhaled a deep breath
laced with frustration. “Let us not have a repeat of yesterday, hmm? I was
planning on taking you around the farm today.”

“I don’t care.”

“You are being
childish.”

“I’m rubber, you’re
glue, go fuck yourself. Sorry, I’m all out of rhymes this morning.”

He stood and took her
plate. It landed in the basin of the sink with a clatter. Hands braced on the
counter, he stared out the window, his shoulders rising and falling.

“The bishop’s wife was
kind enough to drop off some gowns for you last night. I left them on the chair
in the hall. Get dressed and we will go.”

No “please”, just
orders. He’d gone so far past pissing her off, she had no term to define the
rage swirling inside of her. Grinding her molars, she stood and went to check
out her new duds.
This ought to be good.

The gown was a
disgusting shade of mint green. The apron was black. The bonnet was made of
stiff, gauzy white lace. The shoes were nondescript black boots that laced up
the front. No, no, no, and no. This would not do at all.

There was a small
package wrapped in brown paper. Written in flowing script along the top, it
said,
To Brother Christian’s betrothed.
She supposed that was she.

Delilah carried the
goods up the stairs and into the bedroom. Sitting on the bed she unwrapped the
package. A pink lace bra and panties fell out along with hairpins that wouldn’t
give her a lobotomy. There was a note.

Hello friend,

My sisters and I thought
these items might be of some use. The underthings are from Destiny, the pins
from myself. Anna has volunteered to find you decent shoes, but first she needs
your size. The girls and I are working on some new aprons and gowns. Perhaps you
can soon visit with us and we can help you decide on colors. We look forward to
becoming great friends.

Best wishes,

Larissa King

Delilah smiled, perhaps
her first true smile in a week. She clutched the note to her chest as an odd
sensation settled over her. Power. These wonderful women she didn’t even know,
thought enough about her to go out of their way to present options Delilah
hadn’t had minutes ago. She wanted to meet them more than anything in the
entire world.

She quickly changed. The
feel of the pink lace over her skin was incredible. She supposed Amish women
could wear whatever they wanted underneath. That was a relief. Tossing on the
taffy green shift, she examined the apron. It went over the arms and tied at
the back.

Brushing out her hair, she
twisted it into a style reminiscent of Betty Davis. Green was so not her color.
She wished she had a mirror. Looking at the bonnet she decided to go without
and stuffed it into the pocket of her apron.

She opened the door and
Christian was waiting on the other side. “Jesus, you scared me!”

He growled. “Perhaps we
should stay here.”

“What? Why?” No way was
she staying in the house another minute.

“Your language is
atrocious. Swearing is one matter. Taking the Lord’s name in vain is another
altogether.”

She rolled her eyes and
brushed by him. “God, loosen up, Christian—”

He caught her by the
sleeve. “I am not playing around, Delilah. Being Amish is not something I take
lightly. I am a Christian. It is my faith and I believe in it whole heartedly.
You should respect that.”

Well, if he was gonna
get all serious about it… “Fine. I’m sorry. I’ll try not to take the Lord’s
name in vain anymore. Okay? Can we go now?”

He released her. “Why
are you suddenly in such a rush to leave?”

“Uh, probably because
I’ve been cooped up in this house for almost a week with no television or
people to talk to.”

“I am here for you to
talk to.”

“Yeah. Not the same.”

He winced as though her
words hurt him. He stepped back and schooled his features. She shouldn’t feel
bad. This was his fault. But guilt from taking a jab at his beliefs sank in.
She was a big believer in individuality, allowing people the freedom to be who
they were without judgment. She didn’t like that she’d insulted his faith.

Delilah followed him
down the stairs. His hand coasted over the small of her back as he held the
front door for her so she could pass. She hated that his touch caused a
physical response in her body.

Her mind and body were
at such odds she felt torn, wanting the comfort after all she’d been through
yet hating his touch, as he was the bearer of every current complication in her
life. Forcing her steps quicken, his palm fell away as she stepped off the
porch.

Walking on the farm was
a totally different experience than trying to run away from it. The sights had
a chance to settle in and she would be lying if she said she wasn’t the least
bit impressed.

It was majestic. Long,
lush fields of amber swayed in the breeze like gentle rolling ripples over a
yellow sea. The air was fresh and invigorating, minus the slight tinge of
manure that sometimes caught the tail end of a breeze.

Christian escorted her
along a beaten path and pointed out various crops and outbuildings. He really
was a farmer. When she saw a corralled off meadow with three black sheep she giggled.