07 | POWERFUL MEN ALWAYS GET WHAT THEY WANT

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Idira woke to voices shouting. For a heartbeat she didn't know where she was. She looked around the shadowed room, disoriented, her eyes drawn to the huge window and the distant sea, black dark, shifting and uneasy under a low moon, waiting for the sun to breach the horizon.

The shouts came again, muted by distance. Idira pushed back the warm quilts and slipped from the bed. Sometime in the night, Blackie had left her hiding place to curl up by the bed's footboard. Idira stopped to pet her, listening to the voices coming from far below. Clad only in her nightdress, she opened her door and peered into the hall. The flickering light of a lamp on the landing below kept the worst of the shadows at bay. She crept down the stairs and leaned over the banister. The voices had lowered. Idira could only make out one word. Benny.

Alarmed, she broached the next flight of stairs, careful not to make the polished boards creak. At the bottom, she paused to make sure no one was around before padding across the thick carpets of the vast entrance hall to the front reception room. The grand room's glazed doors stood slightly ajar. She peeked in. Papa was already dressed for the day in his black leather armour. He stood with his back to the big marble fireplace, his arms crossed over his chest.

Close by, Myra perched on one of the pretty pieces of furniture, a little upholstered sofa done in luxurious green material. Her sister clutched her ruined dress closed over her breasts. All the little flowers in her hair were gone and her blonde tresses hung loose, tangled and messy.

'Papa, please. I love Benny.'

Papa glared at Myra, who quailed under his severe, hateful look. He jerked his head in the direction of the big house.

'Did he hurt ye?'

'No . . . but—'

'There is no 'but'. It's time ye learned about life. Powerful men like VanCleef allus gets what they want and ye better get yer head around acceptin' it. Benny'll accept it, ye can count on it.'

Myra lunged to her feet, bristling, outraged. 'That man slept with me, witout so much as a by yer leave! He took what belongs ta Benny, and ye say Benny'll jus' accept it?' She stood there, trembling, tears burning in her eyes, and spat, 'If ye won't defend me, Benny will. He'll kill 'im.'

Papa laughed, a short, harsh sound. 'Wimmen, and ye're wild expectations, ye're a copper a dozen till us. If VanCleef wants ye, Benny'll give ye up ta him afore ye can say Westfall.'

Myra blinked, taken aback. She sank onto the sofa, and shook her head. 'No. I don' believe ye. Ever since Mama died, ye've changed. Ye wouldna' say such things if Mama was still here.'

Papa clenched his jaw at the mention of Mama. He let out deep breath, like he was trying to find patience. 'Times change Myra. VanCleef asked me about ye, awhile back. Benny, the fool, had been braggin' he had the best lookin' girl in Westfall. I tried ta divert VanCleef but ye'll find he's not the kind ye can divert.' He eyed her dishevelled hair and torn gown. 'Ye're his now Myra, best ye get yer head round it, sooner rather than later, fer all our sakes.'

'And what's that supposed ta mean?' Myra snapped, wounded.

Papa knelt in front of Myra and took hold of her chin, she fought him, but he held her firm, jerking her face back to his. He looked at her with his hard eyes. 'It means Benny's been sent ta the borders o' Elwynn ta patrol. He's been told what's what. Ye're VanCleef's now. Best ye get ta likin' it. So long as I'm Enforcer, ye ain't never goin' ta see Benny again.'

Myra cried out. Tears burst from her eyes. Papa let her go and stood up, straightening his tunic, looking at her with eyes as cold as a fish.

'I'm leavin' fer a fortnight to gather forces in Redridge, but ye mark me words, VanCleef's men'll be keepin' an eye on ye, so don't ye be trying anything funny. If VanCleef sends for ye, ye'll go ta him, looking as pretty as a princess, ye hear me?'

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