Captured In Concho

Chapter 2

"Fernelia Rose," we glanced in unison at the open door, "didn't I tell you not to disturb our guest?"

Fenelia slid off the bed and ran to him, she reached up with both arms. He picked her up and she gave him a hug, "I'm sorry, Daddy, I wanted ta see her," she peered around at me. She leaned close to her dad and tried to whisper, "she's pretty, I like her."

Wolfen eyes peered at me and he whispered just as loudly, "So do I, Nellie, so do I."

The smile that had been on my lips, at Fenelia's declaration, faded as his sank in. I saw the puzzled look leap into his eyes, as he noticed, my smile slip away. Again that mantle of superiority wound itself about his shoulders, "Dinner is ready and soon it will be cold. I suggest you not dawdle," with that said, he strode out of the room.

I sat up, put my hands over my face, and inwardly groaned. Why must I always do something to tick him off. I sighed as I went to shut the door, and changed into a long-sleeved tee; and jeans. I, then, went in search of the dining room. It wasn't difficult to find, I just let my empty stomach lead the way. As I delved into the rich food, I wondered if he always dined in style. The table wasn't fit for a king, but the food was worthy of the wealthy. I wasn't complaining, but I wasn't quite used to such a fine feast. I tried the caviar and found it not to my liking. I really didn't cotton to the idea of eating fish eggs. The foie gras was...unusual...How would one expect goose liver to be? The best part of the meal was the cobb salad and smoked salmon.

Throughout the meal I felt grey eyes upon me and I'd glanced across the table to see a frown directed my way. Near the end of the meal, I, thought I, realized what had caused him to frown. Here he was trying to have a well-mannered meal and I was eating like an unkempt yokel. I lowered my eyes to my plate, removed my left arm from the table, and lifted my pinkie as I drank my tea. Again, I felt eyes upon me and there was that frown. I felt like shouting, "What do you want from me," but I held my tongue, praying to God that the meal would be over soon enough, so I could go hide.

"Is something wrong with the food?"

"No, I...it's just that I am not used to eating food, such as this?"

He wiped his hands on a linen napkin, "Oh, is that so? I was under the impression that is the way you and your sister dine. After all New York, has some of the finest restaurants in the states."

I interrupted, "I am sorry, but I do not live in New York, so I would not know anything about where my sister dines. She is the one with money, I am the one who lives the life of a poor farmer. Thank you for the meal, it was very nice of you to go through all the trouble, of trying to satisfy my palate. You need only had asked and I would have told you, anything would have been fine, really. The only expensive restaurant I splurge on, is called Chop House in Gatlinburg. The steaks there are out of this world, you should check them out, if you're ever in Tennessee." I couldn't help asking, "How well do you know my sister? Were you and she lovers?"

"I do not see that's any of your concern," the grim line of his mouth twisted in a wicked little grin, "What would you say if I told you that we made passionate love on the very table you're dining on?"

I scraped back my chair and raced to my sanctuary. I locked the door, leaned on it, just as a fist pounded on the door. "Go away," I warily shouted, "please, just go away," I slid down the length of the door to sit upon the floor. I leaned against the door hating the feel of the tears, that slid down my cheeks. I hated to cry in front of anyone. Tears were a sign of weakness, besides that they got you mocked at. On top of that, a man had made me cry. I found Mom crying one day, after she and Dad fought. I never felt it was my fault, I was never given the impression it'd been, but as I sat there with my tiny 5 year-old arms around her shuddering shoulders, I vowed that I'd never marry a man that made me cry...I don't know why I dredged up that bit of memory,I guess, maybe a small part of me had hoped...I let that train of thought trail off. Why should I care where the two of them had made love? After all, I had just met him, it wasn't, as if, I was in love with him.