Rose Is Back With Thorns

chapter twenty four

Keeping a grown man's footsteps light was a major challenge, especially in a quiet night within a belligerent, unforgiving enemy's territory. The melodious song of the creatures of the night softly accompanied him as he crept and crawled against the wall, like a thief in the night. Oh, the amount of boyish, impulsive decisions he'd engaged in for the sake of a woman. A woman he loved and would love until his last breath.

For this woman he had gladly slept in the servants' quarters just to hold her through the night. For this woman he had obligingly aided in tasks and errands she had been delegated, so that there was spared ample time to spend together. For this woman he had feigned a busy schedule and sometimes illness, to be left behind with her while the rest of the family went on exhilarating vacations. And that wasn't the entire make up of his list of follies, tonight after being indirectly thrown out of the woman's estate by her brother, he'd snuck back like a love sick, teenage boy afraid of his girlfriend's father.

Oomph!

His body fell unceremoniously and hit the cemented floor of the balcony when he climbed up and hauled himself over the guardrail. He was slowly crossing the thin line between sanity and otherwise. With a muffled, painful groan, his flattened his palm against his hurtful rib and rose himself from the ground. The pain was worth it, if he would get to see his flower. Now he understood why boys went through all the trouble of ducking thorny bushes, crawling on rough grounds, jumping heights risking breaking their bones and even dodging encountering hostile fathers and far much worse brothers. Morgan kept in mind to be a bit lenient if he ever caught a fellow sneaking to his daughter's room. After all he'd done it as a boy...and as a man.

He was now standing in the dimly lit bedroom. Rose's bedroom. He hadn't had much trouble finding it because he knew it faced his estate and he frequently just stared at her window from a far distance in hope to see her.

"Darling?" He called, minding to keep it low lest he attracted unwanted attention.

When there wasn't a forthcoming response, he walked further into the room. He paused in his tracks when his boot crashed upon glass particles. Instantly, his gaze followed the sound and there lay scattered pieces of a white, flower vase and roses. Wariness crept into his heart. "Rose?!"

In a split second, he had checked the bathroom that seemed as if someone had just had a bath. True to his suspicion, he tested the water with his finger, it was warm and scented. He then inspected the walk-in closet that seemed like someone had rummaged through quickly. His eyes then fell on the white towel on the floor, it was wet when he bent and picked it up. Something was dreadfully wrong.

"Rose!" This time it was loud enough to warrant the attention of a skittish maid who peeked in the room and immediately ran away. Sure enough to alert the household. But Morgan was beyond caring. Something told him his flower was in trouble and his least of concerns were her brother or father, or whoever else that felt he hadn't the right to her or being there.

As if on cue, someone burst into the room. "Where is she?!" He boomed, glaring at Morgan askance. "Rose!" He bellowed, his eyes searching about expectantly.

"She's not here." Morgan spilled plainly.

The venomous glare sent his way wasn't enough as the man pulled out a pistol. "I'm not playing games with you, Sylvester. Where's my sister?"

Unflinchingly, he squared his shoulders and stared down at the other man. "I take it, we're both looking for her." It was nonchalant and unemotional.

The other man found it offensive. He fisted Morgan's collar and smothered the mouth of the shiny weapon under his chin. With gritted teeth, he spoke menacingly. "Don't mess with me, alright? The only way you're walking out of here with your sorry life, is if and when you provide my sister." Tightening his hold on him and clenching his jaws, he placed his finger on the trigger. "On a count of three."