The Bedroom & the Rules Part 2

I was examining the contents of the wardrobe—dresses in my size, in colors that complemented my complexion, in styles that suggested someone had been paying very close attention to my preferences—when the knock came.

"Come in," I called, though I remained where I was, running silk fabric between my fingers and trying to calculate how much such garments would have cost. More than Father had seen in months, certainly. Possibly more than he'd earned in years during the height of our prosperity.

What does he want from me that's worth this kind of investment?

The door opened with the quiet precision of well-maintained hinges, and I turned to find Kieran MacAllister filling the doorway like he owned not just the castle but the very air within it.

He looked different in daylight—less mysterious, perhaps, but no less imposing. The golden eyes that had seemed supernatural in torchlight were simply unusual now, though they carried the same intensity that made my pulse skip in ways I preferred not to examine.

"Miss Montgomery," he said, stepping into the room with movements that suggested complete comfort in what was apparently my personal space. "I trust these accommodations are more... suitable to your needs."

More suitable than a stone cell? I wanted to ask. What a remarkably low bar for hospitality.

Instead, I inclined my head with the polite acknowledgment I'd been taught since childhood. "They're very generous, Lord MacAllister. Though I confess myself curious about what prompted such a dramatic change in arrangements."

Why the beautiful lie yesterday, followed by the ugly truth last night, followed by this attempt at redemption today?

Something flickered across his features—guilt, perhaps, or the recognition that his behavior hadn't been entirely consistent. "I may have been... overly cautious in my initial precautions. Circumstances here can be... complex."

Overly cautious. Such a diplomatic way to describe imprisonment. And complex circumstances—another euphemism that danced around truths he apparently wasn't ready to share.

"I see," I said, closing the wardrobe doors with deliberate care. "And these circumstances—are they likely to require such caution again? Should I become accustomed to being moved between accommodations based on your assessment of... complexity?"

The questions were more direct than perhaps prudent, but I was tired of speaking in code. Tired of pretending that what was happening here was normal, reasonable, or in any way acceptable.

Kieran's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly—the only sign that my challenge had registered. "The arrangements going forward will be more... stable," he said carefully. "Provided certain parameters are observed."

Parameters. There was that word again. I moved to the sitting area, taking a seat in one of the chairs arranged before the fire, and gestured to its companion with what I hoped was regal composure.

"Please," I said. "I'm most eager to understand these parameters."

He sat across from me with the fluid grace I was beginning to associate with his every movement, though something in his posture suggested he was as uncomfortable with this conversation as I was.

Good, I thought with satisfaction. At least we're both finding this situation difficult.

"You are welcome to move freely throughout the castle and its grounds," he began, his voice taking on the formal cadence of someone reciting prepared remarks. "The library, the gardens, the music room—all are at your disposal during daylight hours."

During daylight hours. So there were temporal restrictions as well as spatial ones. Interesting.

"How generous," I said. "And during the hours when darkness falls?"

"It would be... advisable to remain in your chambers after sunset," he replied. "For your own safety."

For your own safety. The same phrase his servants had used when they'd dragged me to that cell. I was beginning to understand that those four words were code for restrictions that couldn't be explained through normal means.

"I see," I said again, though I saw nothing clearly except that this castle operated by rules that had nothing to do with normal hospitality. "And these safety concerns—do they extend to the grounds as well? Or merely to the castle itself?"

Kieran's hands, I noticed, had clenched slightly on the arms of his chair. Whatever we were discussing was putting him on edge in ways that simple conversation shouldn't.

"The grounds are safe enough during daylight," he said. "Provided you remain within the estate boundaries."

Estate boundaries. And there it was—the cage door, however prettily disguised. I could roam, could explore, could enjoy whatever comforts he chose to provide. But I could not leave.

"And if I choose to venture beyond these boundaries?" I asked, though I suspected I already knew the answer.

His eyes hardened, golden irises taking on the fixed intensity of a predator watching prey. "You won't."

Two words, spoken with absolute certainty. Not a request, not a suggestion, not even a warning. A statement of fact delivered with the kind of authority that brooked no argument.