much without a comb and brush, but right now getting some answers was more important.
She padded down to the lower level on bare feet, not sure in what direction to go she hoped she didn’t get lost in some area no one would ever to think to look for her.
“Lorn,” she called from the base of the stairs in as loud a voice as she could muster.
“ Madame , what are you doing out of your bed?” Pierre came scurrying into the hall. She was happy and irritated to see him all at the same time. Where was Lorn?
“First of all, I wasn’t in my bed, but I think you already know as much, Secondly, I would like a word with Mr. De LaRue.”
“Come; let me help you back upstairs. Monsieur De LaRue is meeting with members of the Council and cannot be disturbed,” he said hurriedly, trying to guide her back upstairs.
“Members of the Council?” He hadn’t mentioned anything about a meeting.
“Look, if you’re trying to run interference for him, don’t bother. I’ll find him myself.” She whirled around, thinking the library might be a good place to start. She felt light headed and the sudden movement had her grabbing onto the base of the stair railing to regain balance.
“ Madame , you really need to be in bed,” he repeated.
“Why are you calling me that,” she bit out. The term was designated for married women and she was certain he knew she didn’t have a husband. She closed her eyes against the spinning room. After several seconds she tested everything by opening first one eye then another.
“I’m not going anywhere until I talk to Lorn,” she demanded.
“ Madame , he is unavailable –“
“It’s okay, Pierre.” A man exited a door from somewhere behind him, all the while regarding Fatima.
She stared back, unable to mask the amazed look on her face. If she didn’t know better she would have sworn Lorn had aged about thirty years, and quite well. Pierre bowed out gracefully but not before he threw a disapproving look in her direction.
“So you are Fatima,” his thickly accented voice greeted.
“Yes.” Her brows furrowed.
“I am Krail De LaRue, Lorn’s father.”
“Sire, I’m certain she is able to put two and two together.” Lorn exited through the same door followed by six other imposing figures.
Good Lord, had the whole De LaRue clan converged on her, and why did they all have to be giants? Very, very handsome giants.
“You should be in our rooms resting,” Lorn, dressed in jeans and a pullover stated as he came to stand beside her.
She looked to the group of silent men, before registering his comment.
“About that,” she began in a whisper meant for his ears only. “Why are my things in your room, just because we… you know… doesn’t mean --”
“See, the woman hasn’t chosen him,” a voice boomed from one of the men.
Chosen? What did he mean by the comment?
She looked at Lorn questioningly only to find stormy green eyes fixed coldly on the man who’d spoken. He stepped part way in front of her, obscuring her from view.
His voice was deceptively calm as he said, “I’ve already confirmed with you all; the choice has been made.” He paused, waiting while each man nodded his acknowledgement, all but the author of the earlier outburst.
“I’ll rejoin you shortly after I see to the comfort of my…Fatima.”
His Fatima?
“Let’s go upstairs.” Lorn turned to her, continuing the calm tone he’d used to address the other men.
“I think I’ve had enough sleep, thank you. What I would like are my things returned to my room,” she hissed for his ears only.
Several of the spectators cleared their throats simultaneously.
There was no way they could have heard her.
“You can either walk back upstairs of your own volition or I can carry you,” he returned just as low.
More throat clearing.
“You wouldn’t dare,” she fumed. Of all the gall!
She didn’t get another warning before Lorn lifted her with little effort and tossed her over his shoulder
She padded down to the lower level on bare feet, not sure in what direction to go she hoped she didn’t get lost in some area no one would ever to think to look for her.
“Lorn,” she called from the base of the stairs in as loud a voice as she could muster.
“ Madame , what are you doing out of your bed?” Pierre came scurrying into the hall. She was happy and irritated to see him all at the same time. Where was Lorn?
“First of all, I wasn’t in my bed, but I think you already know as much, Secondly, I would like a word with Mr. De LaRue.”
“Come; let me help you back upstairs. Monsieur De LaRue is meeting with members of the Council and cannot be disturbed,” he said hurriedly, trying to guide her back upstairs.
“Members of the Council?” He hadn’t mentioned anything about a meeting.
“Look, if you’re trying to run interference for him, don’t bother. I’ll find him myself.” She whirled around, thinking the library might be a good place to start. She felt light headed and the sudden movement had her grabbing onto the base of the stair railing to regain balance.
“ Madame , you really need to be in bed,” he repeated.
“Why are you calling me that,” she bit out. The term was designated for married women and she was certain he knew she didn’t have a husband. She closed her eyes against the spinning room. After several seconds she tested everything by opening first one eye then another.
“I’m not going anywhere until I talk to Lorn,” she demanded.
“ Madame , he is unavailable –“
“It’s okay, Pierre.” A man exited a door from somewhere behind him, all the while regarding Fatima.
She stared back, unable to mask the amazed look on her face. If she didn’t know better she would have sworn Lorn had aged about thirty years, and quite well. Pierre bowed out gracefully but not before he threw a disapproving look in her direction.
“So you are Fatima,” his thickly accented voice greeted.
“Yes.” Her brows furrowed.
“I am Krail De LaRue, Lorn’s father.”
“Sire, I’m certain she is able to put two and two together.” Lorn exited through the same door followed by six other imposing figures.
Good Lord, had the whole De LaRue clan converged on her, and why did they all have to be giants? Very, very handsome giants.
“You should be in our rooms resting,” Lorn, dressed in jeans and a pullover stated as he came to stand beside her.
She looked to the group of silent men, before registering his comment.
“About that,” she began in a whisper meant for his ears only. “Why are my things in your room, just because we… you know… doesn’t mean --”
“See, the woman hasn’t chosen him,” a voice boomed from one of the men.
Chosen? What did he mean by the comment?
She looked at Lorn questioningly only to find stormy green eyes fixed coldly on the man who’d spoken. He stepped part way in front of her, obscuring her from view.
His voice was deceptively calm as he said, “I’ve already confirmed with you all; the choice has been made.” He paused, waiting while each man nodded his acknowledgement, all but the author of the earlier outburst.
“I’ll rejoin you shortly after I see to the comfort of my…Fatima.”
His Fatima?
“Let’s go upstairs.” Lorn turned to her, continuing the calm tone he’d used to address the other men.
“I think I’ve had enough sleep, thank you. What I would like are my things returned to my room,” she hissed for his ears only.
Several of the spectators cleared their throats simultaneously.
There was no way they could have heard her.
“You can either walk back upstairs of your own volition or I can carry you,” he returned just as low.
More throat clearing.
“You wouldn’t dare,” she fumed. Of all the gall!
She didn’t get another warning before Lorn lifted her with little effort and tossed her over his shoulder
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