Captive Bride - Alta Hensley Page 0,19
through the tense air. Pine Cone snaps awake and darts behind the crates. She fears Papa Rich and has never warmed up to his presence.
Christopher remains where he’s at but turns his head to face Papa Rich who stands in the doorway.
“We’re just talking,” I answer softly. I don’t know why he’s home from work. He rarely leaves the lower level of the town during open hours.
“It sounds like fighting,” Papa Rich says, but he does not enter the room. His eyes are glued on Christopher as a stare down begins.
I’m surprised when Christopher breaks the tense connection and walks back to the chair and sits. “We were just discussing the future. You wanted me to get acquainted with my future bride, correct?” Venom drips from his words, but his body is casual and relaxed as he leans back and crosses his ankles as if he is at complete ease.
“I know the situation down here in the cellar is not ideal,” Papa Rich says. “I understand why you look at me with such hate in your eyes. I don’t blame you at all. But soon, you’ll see why I’ve done what I’ve done.”
“Is that what you think?” Christopher asks as he leans forward.
“It’s what I know.”
“You’re wrong, madman. Wrong. You’re going to have to kill me in here, you know that, right? Either that, or I’ll escape. Somehow I will. Death or escape are my only two options and there is nothing you can do to change that. You may think you have all the control, but you’re wrong.” Christopher glances at me and adds, “You can’t make me marry your daughter. You can’t force this plan on me. I’ll refuse. I’ll choose death over letting you get your way.”
“Tough guy I see,” Papa Rich says calmly, but I’m barely breathing as I wait for his explosion of rage.
Christopher shrugs which I know is meant to infuriate Papa even more. “I speak the truth. You might hate hearing it, but it’s reality. Are you prepared to kill me? Because that is what you’ll have to do.”
Papa Rich motions for me to stand by him, which I quickly do. I can feel something bad is brewing. I don’t know what, or how, or when, but the hairs on my arms stand on edge in warning.
“Have you ever heard of the phrase whipping boy?” Papa Rich asks Christopher as I stand right by his side.
“I suppose I have.”
“Good. But just to be certain you do, let me clarify. The whipping boy was used in the past to great effect. Corporal punishment was used on the unfortunate soul to keep a prince or a member of royalty in line who could not be disciplined themselves due to their status. To beat a dog before a lion. Watching another be beat for your transgressions would hopefully prevent you from doing the action again.”
Papa Rich reaches for the buckle of his belt and begins to unfasten it. I’ve seen him do this before, but I have always done whatever it takes to avoid this action. For the most part, I succeed, and I worry about why he is removing his belt while his eyes are pinned on Christopher who hasn’t moved an inch.
“Ember,” Papa Rich begins, “lift your dress, bend over and touch your toes.” He frees the belt completely, folds the belt in half, and snaps the leather.
My heart stops as confusion swamps my senses. “But, Papa—”
“Now, Ember.”
I know better than to make Papa Rich repeat himself. The punishment will only be worse if I resist or beg for him not to. I also assume since there is an audience, he will have to prove a point if I am to embarrass him with my disobedience.
I am to show respect at all times. I know this.
Closing my eyes so I don’t have to see Christopher as I bare myself, I do as directed. I hope the belting will be swift and not because of the pain but because of the embarrassment and shame of having to do such an act in front of Christopher.
“You are a strong man, Christopher.” Papa Rich’s voice is calm but stern. “I can see that in you. So strong that if it became a battle of pure brute strength between us, it’s likely you would win. So, there is only one solution to solve any issues between us. Ember will now be the whipping boy for you. If you break the rules, if you test my patience, or if