town. After all, did he not have a dark reputation to uphold? Did his peers not call him the Black Baron behind his back?
Pierce chuckled. If only they knew how right they were!
Dawn was already approaching by the time Pierce returned home.
Letting himself in through the side gate, he made his way to the stables where he brushed down his snorting horse before feeding the animal an extra bucket of oats to counteract the tiresome activity that night.
His gelding nickered gratefully.
Then Pierce headed into the house, relieved that no one was about. He had never deemed it right to have people wait on him hand and foot. He was a baron, but that didn’t make him a better man. The men and women he employed were good people, and they deserved his respect. They certainly deserved a good night’s sleep without being forced from their beds simply because he had decided to return home late. If he chose to do so, then he could very well take care of his gelding on his own.
It was as simple as that.
Climbing the steps of the large staircase leading from the front hall up to the first floor, Pierce felt his blood freeze in his veins when a piercing scream suddenly tore through the night’s stillness.
His heart slammed to a halt and his body froze, one foot half-risen to take the next step.
Then a second ticked by and, in the next instant, Pierce found himself bounding up the stairs, taking two steps at a time, anger mixing with urgency as he surged down the hall toward the nursery.
Daphne’s screams tore into his heart, bringing back memories neither one of them could seem to shake.
Throwing open the door, Pierce crossed the chamber in large strides, his gaze focused on the five-year-old girl curled up in bed, clutching the blanket to her chest and screaming at the top of her lungs. “Daphne!” he called her name as his hands settled gently upon her shoulders. “Wake up! You’re dreaming!” He pulled her into his arms as her screams slowly began to lessen. “All is well, Sweetheart. Don’t worry. I’m here. Hush, now. All is well.”
Wrapping her in his arms, Pierce carried her around the room, holding her tight, a slight bounce in his step. His hand brushed over her back as her little arms snaked around his neck, and he could feel her tears against his skin. “Hush, little one. All is well.”
Distant footsteps echoed along the corridor, and Pierce turned toward the door just as Miss Glass burst into the chamber. She wore a robe over her nightshirt and a cap on her head, her young face pale and her eyes wide with concern. The moment she saw him, a hint of relief came to her eyes. “Oh, my lord, it is you.” Her gaze moved to Daphne. “Is she all right?”
Pierce nodded at the child’s governess. “She’ll be fine, Miss Glass. Go on back to bed. I’ll take care of her.”
A kind smile came to her face before she nodded and then stepped back out into the corridor, closing the door behind her.
Seating himself in the rocking chair in the corner by the hearth, Pierce gathered the girl onto his lap, her dark brown eyes now wide open as she looked up at him. “Did you have a dream?”
Daphne nodded, her trembling hands still clutching his shirt. “They were coming,” she whispered, a slight hiccup contorting her speech. “They were coming after me.”
Pierce inhaled a deep breath and wrapped her tighter into his embrace until she settled her head on his shoulder, her little hands still holding on to him tightly. “It was only a dream,” he whispered into her hair. “No one is here, and no one will come for you. I swear it.” He looked down at her, once again marveling at those wide brown eyes. “I would never allow anyone to hurt you. I promise.”
A small smile tickled her lips and she snuggled closer. “I know.”
Those two words sent a jolt through his heart, for nothing had ever affected him the way Daphne’s love and trust did every day. She’d suffered as no child ever should, and yet, she still gave her heart freely…and to him of all people.
“Good night, Father,” she whispered against his neck, her breath warm on his skin, her voice once again heavy with slumber.
Pierce swallowed. Father.
The word never failed to bring on a flood of guilt for he had not always been her father. Once, Daphne