knew this feeling. When she was young, and days went by between any scraps, the hunger was a living, breathing animal that clawed and scraped. If she was fortunate enough to snatch something edible, she’d consumed it between blinks. But the feeling would make her nauseous. Her body rejected what it most needed.
She didn’t want this child rejecting nourishment so she kept to the slow steady feeding, but not the entire bowl.
Standing, she adjusted the child over her shoulder. She was around a year old, but so thin and fragile. Walking, talking, comforting, she traversed the room until the child calmed in her arms and fell asleep.
The man in the chair didn’t move, didn’t speak.
She didn’t care. She’d feed this child. Feed her again in another hour, then be on her way. She wouldn’t risk more time here.
He hadn’t taken the blade to her or made any threats. He had no reason to keep her here, so, logically, he must let her go. If that didn’t work, the room was filled with enough precious items. Surely a threat to damage such beauty would warrant her release.
The child she wouldn’t threaten. She could never go through with it and the man, who watched her care, wouldn’t believe she could harm an innocent.
‘She sleeps,’ her captor said.
Aliette nodded.
‘Yet you do not ask to go.’
It was a question that didn’t need an answer. He’d let her go or he wouldn’t, either way she intended to stay a bit longer for a second feeding. She shrugged.
‘You also fed the child without feeding yourself. Two trays and you chose to feed her first.’ With a huff, he pushed himself back in the chair. His relaxed position did not make him seem less threatening.
‘This is all so...uncomplicated,’ he said.
That warranted her looking at him. She heard the mercenaries outside the door shift their positions. Trained killers positioned to threaten her or protect him. Which begged the question—what did she have that he wanted?
For what was easy for this man would never be easy for her. Over the years she’d been caught, which always revealed three options for her: fight, pretend stupidity, or plead for mercy.
None of those would work in this situation; talking of the child was her only safe choice until he exposed his purpose for kidnapping her.
‘She is a child and needs shelter, food, and gentle words. There is nothing difficult about it. It would do her well to be bathed, to have a change of clothing. She is soiled and, with the food, she will soil her clothing far worse.’
‘I have ordered her clothing and a bath. They will be available in another room.’
Aliette was surprised at his forethought and yearned to go there now. But if her stay went beyond this room she feared it would change his expectations of her. She had no intention to stay here.
‘In her condition and over the next sennight,’ Aliette continued, ‘she’ll need to be fed and cared for as I have done. Anything less and her condition will worsen. It may seem simple, but there are concerns here.’
‘Hmm,’ he said. ‘The child is a concern, but not what I meant.’
‘Then what is uncomplicated?’ she said without thought, without thinking, her mind on the supplies the child needed and Gabriel’s worry.
‘You.’
She stopped moving and looked directly at him. No, nothing of his relaxed stance changed her impression that he was shadows and dark. He was Darkness, swirling around the light in a dance that didn’t make it any less threatening. She only had to misstep and a blade would be in her belly.
He quirked a brow at her, his mouth curving at the corners. ‘Interesting.’
She didn’t care what was interesting, she cared for his deeds, his words.
‘You’re not talking.’
He was playing with her. Making her wait. She couldn’t remain idle the whole day. ‘It’s your turn,’ she said. ‘I asked questions that you have yet to answer. Further, you’re the one who dragged me here. It would be appreciated if you would be courteous and convey the reasons why.’
‘Haste again.’
‘With good cause.’
Another brow, enquiring, looking for elaboration on her statement. She wouldn’t give him more. It was none of his concern that she needed to return to her family. When it came to time, hers was important as anyone’s. Rich or poor.
Another huff of air as if she amused or frustrated him. ‘I want you to care for the babe.’
‘I already am and I intend to wake her in a bit and feed her more. Then she should bathe and sleep.’
‘It is good you let me know your intentions—what will you do when she sleeps?’
‘Leave.’
He nodded. ‘You are correct in thinking it is my time to talk, for I intend for you to stay.’
‘Stay?’
‘For the remainder of the day, tomorrow and the conceivable future.’
‘You said—’
‘I do not want your body or your death, nor by extension will my men. I intend for you to care for the babe, as you’ve been doing.’
No one snatched a stranger off the streets and ordered them to care for a child. Especially when that child was obviously theirs. He’d drawn a blade guarding the child, now he was giving her into her care?’
‘You want me to care for your child,’ she said.
‘Not my child.’
‘The mother, wouldn’t she—?’
‘You’re her mother.’
She jerked, momentarily waking the child in her arms, and she walked around the room again until it was soothed. A year old. She should have been plump with dimples and too heavy to carry this long. She weighed no more than the swaddling wrapped around her.
‘We both know I’m not her mother.’
‘You look alike.’
It was true.
‘You look alike,’ she pointed out, certain he’d confess to the relationship.
He only smiled. ‘Anything could be a deception.’
She’d play along if she must to understand this. ‘If you are not the father and I am not the mother, won’t the parents have some say in this matter?’
‘She has no parents.’
‘You’re certain.’
‘She
