Chapter 16

 Clara and I had finished cleaning the kitchen when Miles stormed in. He said nothing, grabbing my arm and yanking me toward the stairs. I glanced over at Clara to see her hands covering her mouth. Joseph was sitting at the table and drumming his fingers on the wood.

I struggled to keep up with Miles’s wide strides as he dragged me into our bedroom. He did not let go of me until he slammed the door shut. He let out a deep breath and ran his fingers through his hair. My heart was pounding as I watched him stretch and roll his shoulders. He refused to look at me as he tried to shake off the tension in his muscles.

What happened? Miles seemed fine during dinner. He could have been upset, but I did not notice because I was so focused on eating. My hunger made the meal the most delicious food I have ever eaten.

“You’re a whore,” he said.

My eyes widened. Instead of an insult, it sounded like one of his blunt statements. Although I had grown used to the bizarre comments, this one was shocking.

“What?” I asked.

“You didn’t tell me,” he said. “Dad just told me.”

I bit down on my lip. Of course, Joseph told him about my past. I could not avoid it forever. A shiver ran up my spine, and I crossed my arms over my chest.

How do I respond? My past was embarrassing, but I could not lie. Joseph knew the truth.

Miles was breathing heavily, and his hands opened and closed into fists. I had seen many men grow angry, but it usually involved alcohol clouding their judgment.

“I never wanted to do it,” I said. My voice was low because it would crack and break if I spoke louder. “I had to do it to survive.”

Miles grabbed the back of his neck. He rolled his head from side to side. More stress and tension were building in his body, and he was fighting to control it. How close was he to exploding? A lump was growing in my throat as I was hit with a wave of nausea. Silently, I prayed I did not vomit my dinner all over the floor.

Miles swore before he brought his fist down on the dresser. It was a miracle that the wood did not split from the force. I gasped and tightened my fingers into my bicep. Seeing men in a drunken rage always made me nervous. Miles’ huge size made his anger terrifying.

“I’m sorry,” I said.

My voice betrayed me and came out high-pitched and cracked. Thankfully, I did not burst into tears. I needed to keep some composure and not crumple in fear. Men always prayed on weakness.

Miles turned to face me. His jaw was hard as he gritted his teeth. He kept his hands balled into tight fists. His brows were furrowed in confusion.

“Sorry?” he asked.

His voice was drenched in anger. I trembled at the thought of being the outlet for his rage. The terrible nights with Amos flashed through my mind.

“Yes,” I said. “I’m sorry I didn’t say-“

“Maise.” He cut me off. “I’m not mad at you.”

I gasped and took a step back. The words may have been slightly comforting, but his voice was still loud and filled with anger. I wanted to stand strong and not crumple, but I backed up as he approached. My back collided with the wall. It was impossible to look at his scowl as he came too close, so I focused on my feet.

“Maisie.”

His voice was not as loud, but it remained cold. My breathing was rapid and shallow, causing my chest to tighten. I was teetering on the edge of panic, but I could not control myself. I jumped when he slammed his hand against the wall. His hand was only inches away from my head. I closed my eyes, and I softly muttered prayers to myself.

Would he kill me? Did he see me as something tainted? Would Joseph go out and look for another woman for his son?

“Maisie,” he said. I did not move and refused to open my eyes. “Are you scared?”

His voice softened. It sounded like the way he would speak to me late at night when we laid in his bed. This swirl of emotions was melting my brain. Was he no longer angry? I had not known Miles for long but noticed his wild swings from hot to cold. I covered my face with my hands as I tried to control my breathing so that I did not panic.

“Maise,” he said my name again. “Lower your hands.”

I shook my head. He let out a huff of breath before he pulled my hands away from my face. His hand remained on the wall, and he leaned down to press his forehead against mine. His warm breath fanned across my face.

“Don’t be scared,” he said. “I wouldn’t do anything to you. I don’t want to see you hurt.”

He dragged his fingertips along my jaw. My skin tingled, and I shuddered under his touch. His attention was focused on his fingers as they grazed across my cheek. I watched as the tension left his tense muscles.

How could he go from being so angry to so delicate so quickly?

He turned his wrist so that his rough palm cupped my cheek. My heart shifted from pounding to feeling like it fluttered in my chest. What was happening to me?

“You’re so small,” he said. “How could they do that to you?”

“Miles-” I started.

“Did they ever hurt you?”

I hesitated because I was afraid to tell the truth. Many of the men would leave bruises and marks on my skin. Amos would often twist my wrists at awkward angles, and I would not be able to move my hand for days.

Miles understood why I was not answering and swore.

He actually cared about how those men treated me. There was no question about it. In the tavern, one man would start to harass me, and it would cause a chain reaction. They all encouraged each other to abuse me. My despair was their favorite hobby.

A smile crept onto my lips. I pressed my hands against his hard chest. His words, combined with Joseph’s and Clara’s sweet statements at dinner, made my heart flutter. It had been so long since people genuinely cared about me. No one cared about my well-being. My grandmother was kind, but my parents and siblings were a nightmare.

Was this what it was like to have a family? I would have people that would protect me? There would be people who never wanted to see me hurt. This was what I had always wanted.

I slid my hands up Miles’s hard chest, over his shoulders and neck, and my fingers weaved into his hair. Miles grabbed my hips and pulled me tight into his body. I tilted my head back to see a faint smile on his lips.

“I love you,” he said.

He told me this before dinner, and I was horrified to respond. I did not to echo his words because I had yet to understand what was happening. My eyes were now open. Joseph brought me here to save me. He gave me a family.

“I love you,” I said.

Miles’s smile grew wider before he kissed me. His lips were hungry as he pushed me back. He leaned forward, and his weight pinned me to the wall. My lips tingled as warmth spread throughout my body. His breathing was heavy as his fingers curled into my hips. Heat pooled between my thighs, and my core ached. My body had never reacted this way to a man. Typically, I would be convincing myself to go through these motions. It was always just cold and calculated moments and not this type of passionate need.

My hands slid back down onto Miles’s chest. He bit down on my lip, and I moaned. My hands fumbled with the buttons on his shirt. Cold metal touched my fingers when I slipped my hand under the fabric. I tried to pull back, but I was pressed into the wall. I rolled my head to the side, forcing Miles to kiss my cheek. My finger wrapped around the metal on his chest.

“Miles, what is this?” I asked.

He pulled back and looked down at my hand. A chain was wrapped around my finger. I furrowed my brows to see it was a necklace with a key dangling on the end.

Miles bit down on his lip. He took a step back, and a chill ran through my body. I was tempted to step forward, but Miles ripped my hand off the chain.

“We locked the doors,” he said.

“Locked the doors?” I repeated. “What do you mean?”

“We put a lock on the doors.”

“Why would you do that? So I can’t leave?”

Miles’s eyes narrowed. The smile had disappeared, and he returned to an unreadable stare. His unpredictable swing of emotions switched to something cold. My eyes darted back to the key.

They locked the doors because they did not trust me. Joseph was never going to give me another chance to run. They intended to keep me restrained to the house. Locks on the door were less painful than being bound with rope, and they did provide me with a little more freedom.

Miles was quiet as he turned and removed his shirt. I watched as the muscles on his back moved. My lips tingled as I recalled our passionate kisses. The ache in my core was unusual. I looked at the bed to see the sheets were still in a tangled mess, and the rope remained looped through the headboard.

His chaotic emotions were confusing, but I needed to try and keep him happy. It was pointless to try to run back to my miserable life. My fingers fumbled with the buttons on my dress. Miles turned to see me slipping the dress off my shoulders.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“I thought we were getting ready to go to sleep?” I said.

He raised a brow as he stepped closer.

“You’re not going to scream?” he asked. “I thought you would be crying all night and trying to hit me.”

“No.” I shook my head. “I won’t.”

Miles ran his hand along his jaw as he watched me. It was as if he was trying to analyze my mind. Did he not believe me? Would he tie me back to the bed? The blood was shadowing through the white bandages on my wrists. I needed to convince him he did not need to restrain me again.

I continued to remove my clothes. I slid under the blankets and did not ask for a nightgown. Hopefully, being nude would persuade him that I was not going to try and leave the house. I rolled onto my side and clutched the blankets to my chest. Miles let out a deep breath, and I listened to him move around the room. The bed dipped before he slid his arm around my waist and pulled me into his chest. He was also naked, but I could feel the cold metal of the key pressed into my back.

“I love you,” he said.

“I love you too.”