Captive Bride - Alta Hensley Page 0,6

stands in front of the crates directly before me. The woman is still near the doorway as if entering the room is too dangerous.

“I don’t know why you did this, but if it’s money you want—”

“Money is the root of all evil,” the man interrupts. “That is the last thing that my daughter and I want.”

I track my eyes to his daughter and question those words. She doesn’t look anything like the man, nor does she seem particularly comfortable in his presence. The dim light of the room, the calmness of the man speaking, the fear visible in the stance of the woman, have the tiny hairs on my nape standing on end.

“Then what the fuck do you want?” My voice snaps through the still and stagnant air.

He bends toward me, his face closer—but not close enough for me to reach out and strangle—and cast in haunting shadows. “Well, the first thing I want from you is for you to watch your language. There’s a lady present, and I expect you to show some respect.”

My fist twitches.

Everything inside of me threatening to boil to a point of epic disaster if I don’t control my emotions. I must stay calm. I must use my mind, because I have no doubt I am smarter than the man in front of me. Outwit over force considering there is a metal chain restricting me from escaping.

I glance at the woman again. She swallows, licks her lips, and continues to stare at the floor, her weakness causing my blood to boil even more.

“I am a man who believes in asking and thou shall receive,” the ranger says. “My daughter, Ember, is of marrying age. Some would say a few years past. It’s my responsibility to arrange a suitable and Godly partnership for her. Up to this point, I have failed her in this regard. But I suppose you could say that I’m picky. I don’t believe in love at first sight, dating, playing the field and all the other foolish and sinful ways of today’s belief. The only love that needs to exist for union, is the mutual love for God.”

He holds his palm out to his daughter, waiting.

Something flickers in her blue eyes as she stares at him.

Comprehension.

Fear.

Reality.

She eventually moves to take his hand and twists her body to face me head on. We share a look, and in that moment of time, I have hope. She doesn’t want to be here. She doesn’t want me to be here.

I can see it.

I can feel it.

“Although you are not prepared to be her husband yet. Far from worthy in the eyes of the Lord. But I do believe I can groom you during the courting of my daughter,” he continues, though his words are not entering my mind as they should. I can’t make sense of the madness spewing from his lips. “And though Ember has no momma to guide her, she is a good girl and can learn quickly.”

“Papa Rich,” Ember says tentatively, “I don’t—”

“Silence!” His lip curls as he seethes his venom. He reaches out and strikes her upside the head, causing her to tighten her fists in front of her, focusing on the floor in complete silence. He straightens his shoulders as he takes a deep breath. “My apologies. My daughter is usually much more submissive and obedient. She normally does not talk out of turn. But I assure you I will school her in the ways of being a proper bride as I groom you in your duties as a husband. I give you my word as a man I will take my responsibilities seriously.”

Ember’s face reddens with a quick glance my way, and she stares back down toward her hands as her brows pull together.

“You want me to marry your daughter?” I ask. Even saying the words seem unreal. I feel as if I am floating in muddy water, suffocating, struggling to hold on to life.

Ember peers at me through her thick lashes. Her face is now a sheet of white, her chin quivering in anticipation of what can possibly come next. I wonder if she is a mirror, reflecting my internal struggle with my new reality.

“Not immediately,” he says casually. “I do believe a proper time is required for courting.”

“You hit me over the head, knocked me out”—I lean toward him as a raging fire erupts inside of me—“to marry your daughter?”

I have never killed a man. Never considered it before now. Now… I will.

“Correction,” he says, crossing his