"Lady Sasha?" she heard Iyana ask with concern when Sasha staggered backward. "My lady, is everything all right?"

Sasha immediately jumped to the window and pulled the curtains close, her heart hammering against her chest.

"Iyana, did you lock all the doors?"

"Of course—"

"Are you certain?" Sasha asked, whirling around, eyes shaking with fear.

"Yes, Briana and Gail did—"

"Check, Iyana. Now."

Iyana frowned. "But what is wrong—"

"Just do it!"

Iyana nodded and rushed out the door. Sasha walked back to the window and peered through the curtains.

The garden below was empty. He was gone.

Sasha moistened her lips, turning to face her room, her eyes gliding to all corners. Her first instinct was to call for West, but she could not do that.

He was not responsible for her.

Iyana returned later after checking the doors, face filled with concern. "Did you see something—or someone—outside the window, my lady? Please, tell me."

"It was nothing, Iyana. No one. I must just be too tired I was seeing things. Forgive me if I have caused you alarm."

Iyana held her hand to her chest. "You did more than that. After what happened to you—did you think you saw him outside?"

"Who, Iyana?"

"Willoghby, of course."

Sasha blinked a few times. "No—I don't know."

Iyana nodded slowly, looking unconvinced. "I will leave my door open tonight, my lady. If that will make you feel at ease."

"It is fine, Iyana. I will be fine." She smiled, playfully pushing the woman out the door. "Truly, I will be fine. Do you think we can have muffins on the morrow?"

Iyana smiled hesitantly. "Of course. I will tell Gail."

Sasha softly closed the door. She turned the lock and rested her forehead on the hard surface, letting out a long, shaky breath.

The bloody bastard.

What did he want with her?

*****

By morning, Sasha did have her wish of muffins.

And a visitor.

West went straight to the breakfast room after Iyana opened the door for him and found Sasha finishing her meal.

Left alone, he dragged his eyes from her head to her hands, then back to her face. "Did you have a fantastic luncheon yesterday?" he asked.

Sasha shrugged. "I did."

His eyes narrowed.

"Gail, my cook, hastily prepared sandwiches after I left Mrs. Compton's villa."

Two thick brows arched in surprise. "Interesting," he said, taking the seat to her left. "Why?"

Sasha swallowed and wiped her mouth. "I found that—"

He did not let her finish. His hand grabbed her hand and glared at her wrist. "What is this?" he asked, turning her hand over to inspect the bruise.

"The reason why Gail had to make sandwiches," she said, pulling at her hand. He did not let go. Sasha sighed. "West, you are being dramatic."

"And what do you think this is? A natural occurrence?" he asked, lifting her hand. "Sasha, Owen Compton has a reputation to be—"

"Aggressive," she interjected. "As I found out."

He let go of her hand and let out an exasperated breath. "You are taking this too lightly as you do Willoghby."

He began to stand and she watched him walk to the doorway. "Where are you going?"

"Next door," he growled.

"I already settled the matter, West."

He whirled around. "Oh, you did, did you not? How? Reported him to Belcourt? He is not a gentleman of Belcourt, Sasha. You should know better."

"We robbed him of his horse while he was at Wheeler's."

He was already opening his mouth for a rebuttal when he froze, stupefied. "You did what?"

"We unstrapped his horse from his stagecoach and let it free."

For a long moment, he just stared at her, his eyes a glimmer of astonishment and disbelief. "Who were you with?"

"Jade, Ruby, and Aliya."

"The four of you managed to do it on your own?"

"We were trained on how to drive a carriage, West. Of course, we can manage how to unstrap a horse."

He scoffed. "Did you take off the blinders?"

"Of course. You think us daft? The horse had to know where it is going."

Then slowly, in a very satisfying way, his scoff transformed into a chuckle.

She stood up with a proud smile. "Aliya made certain he will never repeat his actions."

His smile disappeared and he caught her arm when she walked past him. Eyes searching hers, he asked, "What did he do to you, Sasha?"

"He gave me a bruise around my wrist." She raised to her toes and planted a quick kiss on his lips. "Nothing else."

"Sasha," he called after her, following her to the parlor. "Compton will not be the last man to do this sort of thing. Willoghby is still out there, is he not? I have not heard a word that he has been caught."

She smiled, settling in the settee. "You been in correspondence with the other flowers then?"

"Who else should I go to when my own Belle and her friends will not share anything?"

"I will be fine, West."

He looked at her, hands on his waist. Then he sighed. "Get ready."

She looked up. "Why?"

"You are coming with me to my villa."

She frowned. "You told me yesterday you have work to do."

"I do."

"And I told you I have things to do."

"No, you did not."

"Of course, I did."

"When?"

"While you were—" her face flushed. "While you were... never mind. You were preoccupied."

He walked toward her and pulled her out of the settee. "I am always preoccupied. Why? Are you planning to go to Belcourt today?"

She shook her head. "No, but I am planning to go there soon," she said, voice low. "So you see, I have to finish a few things before that."

He kissed her mouth once, twice, until they had to stop for a breath. "You take whatever you need to do to the villa. Seven is waiting for you." His hands squeezed her waist. "Go."

Sasha sighed, turned, and left the room.

Perhaps spending a day away from her own household would help with the feeling of unease.

And she needed to discuss things with him that required the privacy of his villa.

*****

West was checking the windows in the parlor. He checked the locks and tested their endurance. Satisfied, he made a move to check the front door, when he found Iyana standing in the doorway, fiddling with her fingers in front of her.

The woman's usual scowl whenever he was around was absent at the moment, replaced by something that of concern.

"What is it, Iyana?" he asked with a frown.

She hesitated at first, but when he raised his brows in encouragement, she stepped toward him in haste. Taking a quick glance behind her, she turned to him and said, "I fear that Willoghby was outside in the garden last night."

West's demeanor immediately changed. "How did you know?"

"I was... I was helping Lady Sasha with her dress when she suddenly froze in fright and jumped to the window to draw the curtains close. I knew she saw something, but she would not admit it."

He sighed with frustration. "Did you lock the doors?"

"Of course, sir, I did."

He nodded. "I will have someone come by this afternoon while Sasha is in my villa. Your locks should be replaced."

The woman nodded.

"And Iyana," he added, leveling his serious gaze with the woman's, "should anything happen, I want to be amongst the first that you inform." The woman slowly nodded. "Whenever it happens." She nodded. "Wherever it happens." The maid nodded multiple times. "Do you understand, Iyana?"

A flash of annoyance crossed the maid's light brown eyes. "I believe you made it very clear, sir."

He nodded, stepping away from the woman. "Good."

Sasha appeared moments later with a notebook and a thicker petticoat, one West was already hating.

"I will be home before ten, Iyana—"

"She will be home in the morning," he cut in, giving Iyana a small smile. He walked to Sasha. "Why do you have your notebook with you?"

"I have a household to run, West. I have to do inventory."

"I hope you can do it in bed."

"Of course. Unlike you, I can do multiple tasks at once."

His eyes darkened, his mind already picturing her sprawled on the bed, her thick waves spread out on the covers as she writhed with pleasure. "Is that a dare?"

A secret smile curved her lips. "Perhaps."

*****

West wasted no time to take her up on her dare when they reached his villa.

It took no time for her to strip him of his coats and shirt. He cursed at her petticoat but successfully pulled it off her arms.

Seven, the poor dog, had to hide under the bed while West showed Sasha just how he could do many things at once with his mouth and hands.

The lovemaking turned into a game, a competition of who could push each other to beg. She nearly succeeded twice if he did not take over, but in the end, their climax was the same as it was yesterday and the days before that—overpowering, bordering to unbelievable.

West lazily tucked her hair behind her ear, followed it with his lips, kissing the lobe until she squirmed with a chuckle.

He liked that she never giggled.

"I have to work now," she said, pushing away from the bed.

He grabbed her hand and pulled. She fell right back with helpless laughter. He kissed the bruise around her wrist.

Sasha bent her head to seek his mouth and they rolled on the bed in a lazy, sensual kiss. She ended on top of him, her hair cascading around them.

West opened his eyes and found hers closed as she opened her mouth wider, tasting more of him. Her fingers raked through his hair, tilting it so she could angle her mouth to better fit his.

He closed his eyes again, seeing no difference for she felt the same and tasted the same—eyes open or not. He could still see her in his head. He could picture her thighs beside his hips, her knee digging into the bed. He could see the dimples of her lower back, how they moved with her hips.

She finally ended the kiss. West opened his eyes and found hers dancing with a smile. "I need to work," she repeated, climbing off him and the bed. He watched her caress Seven's head with her fingers, the same ones that almost made him scream moments ago.

"That's my robe, my lady," he said, voice cracking.

She tied the strap around her waist. "Thank you." Her radiant smile after lovemaking was amongst the many things West looked forward to along with the waves of untamable brown locks.

With a grunt, he sat up and pulled on his breeches. He found his shirt on top of the dresser, wondering how it got there, and dressed. Sasha was already curled up in the seat at the corner of the room, one slender leg folded under her, notebook open on her lap. "I forgot my pen," she said, looking at him with a smile.

He scowled then rolled his eyes. Minutes later, he was back from his study with a pen and an inkwell.

"I truly like this pen," she said, studying the object with envy.

"You cannot have it."

"I know," she said with a sigh.

Seeing that she was no longer interested in staying in bed, West went to his study and grabbed the papers he had to read for parliament.

Sasha scoffed when he settled in bed and started reading. "What are you doing?"

"Doing multiple tasks in bed," he murmured, frowning down at the paper.

She said nothing further, writing things on her notebook, while West pushed aside one proposed bill after another, separating those that interested him for a second read.

When he thought he was done, he set his papers aside and watched her finish her work. "When do you suppose you are going to be done with that?"

"I am not good at doing calculations in my head, sir, please be quiet. I have carrots to count."

He chuckled. She scowled at him. He lifted his hand in defense. "Carrots are essential in the kitchen."

Her eyes narrowed. "So are knives."

West motioned with his head. "Go on, then, before you stab me to death."

The silence that followed was a welcome one. It was far from the discomfort he felt before they changed their agreement. When he once had to constantly check himself, West was now at ease.

But it would not be for long, he thought. She was here in his villa, safe with him to protect her. Tomorrow, she would return to her place, alone with naught but three ladies to save her should Willoghby show himself.

"What will happen to Willoghby if Belcourt finally gets to him?" he asked.

He saw her stiffen before she recovered. "He will be put to trial."

"And what could be the worst punishment he will get?"

"Banishment."

"From Belcourt?"

She shook her head. "No." Lifting her eyes from her notebook, she met his gaze. "Sutherland."

West blinked. "You mean to tell me that Belcourt can do that?"

"Of course. It had been done before."

"And where will he be banished? London? The Americas?"

"Sinhold."

"Sinhold?"

"The island, of course." She wrote something in her notebook before she closed it and laid it aside. "He will never survive there."

"Then it is true? The island in the south?"

Sasha nodded. "Of course. Where did you hear it from?"

"Tanner, who else?"

She nodded with amusement. "I see. That friend of yours must know the right people to know about the island."

"You mean he knows the right women."

She laughed. "Yes, the island is true."

"Then... Garland—"

"Oh, Carl Garland?" Sasha asked. "I heard he was punished severely. He tied his Belle to his bed for two days."

"Then it is true that—"

"No, I cannot say. I have no evidence that he was banished. It was never disclosed. But considering that he cannot be found, then he must be on the island—or whatever remains of him now."

West scoffed. "Sasha, do you not think Belcourt is taking things too far? They are claiming the law in their own hands."

"Yet the kingdom allows it."

"The kingdom may not be aware of it."

She shrugged. "Well, that is not my concern. I am not privy to the relationship of Belcourt to the king. For all you know, a monarch may also be a flower."

She stood up and joined him in bed. Seven bounded on her lap. Resting her head back, she closed her eyes. "But one thing is for certain—no one would wish for the island."

"Is that your greatest fear? I would have to assume, of course."

She opened her eyes. "No, it is not."

"Then there is a worse punishment?"

"No."

West waited for her to speak. The look in her eyes was different now. She seemed distant. "My greatest fear has nothing to do about Belcourt. It is my own mind. It is whenever I close my eyes and I would see my father's face."

West remained motionless, breathless. He did not know what to say. She just told him something she should not.

It had always been straight and forward between them. They never shared intimate secrets. Yet she was doing it now.

A bitter smile tugged her lips. "Is it not crazy? I fear my father's face the most."

"Well, I sometimes fear your maid's face," he tried to jest. She smiled, but not enough to erase the dark look in her eyes.

"He killed my mother," she said, voice low it was almost a whisper.

West moistened his lips. He took her hand in his, rubbing his thumb over a knuckle. Should he stop her?

No, the curious voice in his head replied. You never listened to the warnings so why start now?

"I came home after a long afternoon of herding the cows and I found him sitting in the middle of our cottage. He laid her on the floor beside his chair. She was lying in a pool of blood."

West rolled to his side. "Sasha..." he began, but she tightened her grip around his hand.

"He said he had been waiting for me. He was holding a pistol. He asked me to choose."

"Sasha, you do not have to—" he started, but she shook her head.

"I want to tell you. I want to know what it feels like to tell the story." She took a deep breath. "He asked me to choose. Him or me. He only had one bullet left, he said."

"Good Lord, Sasha," his voice came out as a whimper as he pulled her to him. She let him, but she was stiff in his arms.

"I made my choice." She let out a shaky breath. "I watched him shoot himself."

"Stop, please. Sasha, goodness. How could—how could he do that to you—bloody tarnation!" He shifted her in his arms, tightening his hold as if it would make her pliant, soft. But then, he did not want her to be. She was too proud to cry in his arms. He buried his face at the crook of her neck. "Bloody hell, Sasha..."

Her hand rested on his arm. "I fainted as the shot rang out. We fell to the floor at the same time. When I woke up, I grabbed my satchel and left. I never cried. I wonder why I never cried." She was not crying now either. "Then I walked the twenty miles in the rain." West pulled back to look into her eyes. She blinked at him and smiled weakly. "You see, I was not lying. I truly did walk those miles."

West scoffed then planted a soft kiss on her lips, closing his eyes as he felt the sting. "I believe you," he murmured against her mouth.

She finally moved. Her arms wormed around his neck. "During my walk, I promised myself never to return. I would never come back to a life outside of Belcourt," she whispered. "Anyone outside could be my father. They would make me choose. Then they would make me suffer for it."

"And Belcourt never lets you choose."

She shook her head. "Belcourt simply always knows."

West sighed, pulling her closer, giving her another kiss.

Silence reigned between them for a while. Even Seven never made a sound.

"I never spoke of what happened that afternoon. Belcourt never questioned me. They just took me in."

"And now you are here," he said, squeezing her to him.

She slowly nodded. "I am here."

"Is that why you fainted when you were re-courted? You did not want to be a Belle. You did not want to be back outside."

She nodded, lifting a hand to caress his cheek. "But I found I can manage it."

He smiled. "Of course, you can."

Sasha sighed and rolled away from his hold. "I thought I would shed tears if I share my story." She wrinkled her nose. "I suppose I thought wrong."

He did not comment. She was not crying because that was how her circumstances designed her to be. She was not strong, he realized. She could simply detach herself from the horror. Just as the morning after Willoghby's attack, or what happened with Compton. She brushed them off just like that moment when she woke up and found her parents dead.

She padded to the washstand and washed her face. "Should we ring for dinner?" she asked. He nodded.

Not long after, Darren served them their meal and dragged Seven out of the bedroom.

"I am planning to search the Library thoroughly."

"You have told me that," he said, voice mellow. He was still thinking about his father and what the bastard did. He did not leave a broken daughter. He left a lost one.

"It would be a very long task, West. I do not have enough details to work with. I do not know what she looks like. I can ask you about your mother's features, but that is on hoping your sister inherited most of them."

"You are asking for her father's name," he concluded, smiling at her when she looked at him with feigned innocence. "You only need to ask, Sasha."

"If I remember correctly, sir, you did not want to share the information."

West slowly chewed on his food, enjoying the transformation on her face as she grew more impatient.

"Is her father Reginald, the former king?" she asked.

West shook his head. "My mother had two flowers before she left Belcourt. One of them, of course, was my father. During their marriage, she maintained her affair with the first flower." He sipped his wine and swallowed. "That man is now the king of Sutherland."