Treasured

27)

Wren

The first thing I noticed about Sir John was his booming voice. It was warm and big, and it reminded of a cheery, warm fire at twilight.

I'm not sure what I thought he'd be like, but I know nothing could have prepared me. Mr. Price was a proper gentleman - waist coat, handkerchief, lacy cuffs and shined shoes - his brother was the complete opposite. He wore these brown trousers that were quite worn, a plain white blouse and no jacket, with just a simple brown vest. His shoes were scuffed and in need of repair, and his hair was wild and long. His beard was unkept and curly, and I couldn't tell how old he was...

"Ah, boys! There you are!" Sir John greeted us, his teeth flashing white against his beard.

"Sir John," Fletcher warmly welcomed him, easily hugging the (seemingly) affectionate man. "Are you just arrived?"

"Yes! Haven't even got my bags in yet," Sir John chuckled.

"Sir John!" Sal flew happily toward the man, full of smiles.

"Aw, my young one, how are you?" Sir John grinned, whirling LaSalle through the air, spinning him with glee.

"I'll take these to your room," Fletcher informed Sir John, nodding toward the bags in his hands.

"Thank you, Fletch," Sir John easily replied, making me frown a bit.

I'd never heard anyone refer to Fletcher that way before. Well, I did, but that was mostly in my head, and I didn't know how that made Fletcher feel. Something squirmed uncomfortably in my stomach just from someone else taking the liberty to do something like that to my boys.

I tried to get to a seat, but people were blocking the way. I settled against the wall instead, trying to keep most of my weight off of my leg. I knew in a few minutes things would settle to a more reasonable level.

"Who's this then?" Sir John fixated on me, drawing closer.

I looked around for some help, but everyone seemed at ease and oblivious to my plight. Mr. Edward had just slipped off to who knows where, and the others were so excited they didn't even realize how overwhelmed I might be.

"That's Wren," Orion crowed helpfully. "He's a newcomer - came a little over a month ago."

"Ah. Quiet is he?" Sir John asked, just a few feet from me.

"We thought he was mute, but turns out he can talk if he really wants to," Orion continued, making me flush.

If I wanted to? What happened with Branson and Sal was practically a miracle. And if they didn't remember clearly enough, I ended up having a nervous breakdown at the dinner table soon after!

"Rian," Cedar hissed, whacking the boy upside the head. "Not your business to spread around."

"He's cute," Sir John smiled, eyes crinkling up.

Before I could move, he had swept me up in a tight embrace. I dangled, leg twinging as he crunched my hip, arms pinned to my sides, and face crushed to his shoulder and held there with one mammoth hand.

And suddenly everything was spinning again.

~

My face was covered almost completely by a sheet or towel of some kind. I was gagged so tightly I wondered if I'd choke to death. Tears sprung to my eyes, and snot clogged my nose making it harder to breathe. I tried to struggle, but my wrists were rubbed raw, and the stinging pain in my wrists quickly calmed me down.

My breathing picked up when I felt that familiar weight settling on my waist. I shuddered as fingers trailed down my chest to the wispy hair on my navel. I wanted to scream, but I couldn't get a whisper, much less a hell out.