Doomed to Torment by Claire Ashgrove

Author:Claire Ashgrove
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: romance, fantasy, paranormal, spicy
Publisher: The Wild Rose Press
Published: 2012-08-31T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

Angus beckoned for Thomas to sit beside him. Before his son got the notion Angus had approved of Isolde’s foray to the river, he needed to make sure Thomas understood it had not.

Thomas plopped onto the mattress enthusiastically. “Father, I saw you kissing Isolde! Does this mean she won’t leave Hatherly this time?”

Good Lord—could a situation become more awkward? Angus pursed his lips as he considered how to answer without revealing he didn’t know whether he wanted Isolde to stay this time. It was tempting. But damn…

He backtracked in double-time to a safer subject. “Thomas, it’s rude to eavesdrop.”

“I was just walking past your door, Father. I didn’t listen long.”

Long enough to witness things Angus couldn’t explain. He groaned inwardly and shook his head. “It’s still rude, son.”

“Isolde didn’t mind.” He grinned mischievously. “Do you think she’ll go? Do you think she’ll handfast with me?”

At that, Angus laughed. “No, son, I don’t know if she’ll go. But if she does, I wouldn’t get your hopes up about a handfasting. Those are promises taken very seriously and made between adults.”

“Then maybe she’ll do so with you. If she did, she’d never leave. You should ask her.”

Damnation! His own son was pushing him to acknowledge things in his heart he didn’t want to consider. How had he failed to recognize Thomas cared so much for Isolde?

Regardless, he couldn’t continue this conversation. Better to cut it off than let it go too far and truly disappoint Thomas if Isolde chose to leave after all. “Son, I want to talk to you for a minute.”

“What about?”

“The river.”

A harassed sigh issued from Thomas’s lungs, and he rolled his eyes. “Father, I can swim. I’m just wading up to my ankles.”

Angus didn’t want to upset his son any more than necessary, but he’d been battling the issue with the river for too long. Every time he turned around, Thomas was sneaking off to visit the tadpoles, to feed breadcrumbs to the passing fish, to wade in the clear water. It was time for him to truly understand the risk.

“Your mother died there, Thomas. She slipped on the moss and hit her head. She could swim even better than I. It isn’t about swimming. The river isn’t safe.”

Thomas mumbled something beneath his breath that drew Angus’s attention. He cocked his head. “What did you say?”

“Nothing,” he answered shortly.

“No, you said something.” He could have sworn on his entire ancestral line his son had just muttered, She didn’t slip.

“None of your business. You’re mean and unfair. You don’t worry about Isolde or Nadine going to the river. Or Philippe, when he wants to fish. I’m the only one!”

Angus threw his hands in the air. “Because you’re my son. They aren’t.” He bent forward and braced his hands on the mattress, bringing his gaze level with Thomas’s. “Now, I’ve told you not to go to the river. I expect you to abide by my decisions. I’m your father, Thomas. I know what’s best more often than you think.”

Thomas shot to his feet, his head a breath away from smacking into Angus’s nose.

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