Escaping The Beast: A Darkhills Romance (The Darkhills Series Book 2) by Elizabeth Greene (the best motivational books TXT) 📗

Lord Nightingale, before then. She wouldn’t be surprised if he ended up back at Tumbricane working for the man until his last breath. Or until he hatched another plan to somehow escape his fate.

Katherine had spent a good part of her night cursing her father for her predicament until she had run out of descriptive expletives and had reached the point where the blame was landing squarely on her shoulders. She should’ve known better than to think that he simply wanted her to help him with some negotiations. It was foolish to think he had begun to see her for the promising law student that she was. He had never taken an interest in her academic achievements or pursuits, or work ethic, and there was no evidence to suggest that he would make a start any time soon. But like an idiot, she had jumped at an opportunity to prove that she was more than his pretty, blond, reliable daughter. If she had ignored his call and washed her hands of him, like she had told herself she was going to after the last fiasco she had gotten involved in, she wouldn’t be waking up as some strange and handsome man’s prisoner.

Guest. She corrected herself.

Lord Nightingale had assured her that she was his guest. Katherine was tired of being everyone’s fool. She might be lying in a fluffy cloud of luxurious comfort but the fact remained that the well-appointed room was her prison cell. As if on cue, she heard a steady rap on the door.

“Hello?” Katherine called out, lifting her head out from under the duvet.

“Your breakfast, Miss. Daxton.” The voice of the butler, Mr. Jones replied, before she heard his feet shuffling away down the corridor.

That’d be the first of her three square meals a day. Katherine, flung the covers off and padded across the room to the door, wondering if it would be served in a little separator tray and contain some grey-looking stodge and a plastic carton of orange juice.

She opened the door and looked down to find a tray with a silver domed cloche covering a plate, a crystal tumbler filled with freshly squeezed orange juice, silverware neatly placed within a silk napkin, and a small vase containing a single lavender rose. Propped up against the gleaming, silver cloche was a wax-sealed envelope.

Katherine raised a curious brow. What exactly was her jailer playing at? She gathered the tray up and placed it upon the bedside table. She paced to the French doors and drew back the heavy gold drapes allowing the grey overcast morning to filter in, casting the room in dull light. She looked out onto the balcony at the rain mottled bistro table and chairs and decided she would eat her breakfast inside.

She climbed back into bed, wrapping the warm blanket around herself once more. Gingerly, she picked up the envelope and examined the wax seal. She’d never seen one in real life, she thought they were the sort of thing saved for historical dramas. The imprint in the wax was an icon of some kind. Katherine squinted at it, it was small but it looked as though there was a flower or perhaps a rose depicted on a shield. She wondered if it held any particular meaning. Sliding the silver knife along the edge of the paper she broke the seal and unfolded the letter. Letter was an overstatement.

Dear Miss. Daxton,

I trust you slept well. I will be dining in the main hall this evening, should you wish to join me.I wish you a pleasant day.

Yours,

Lucian Nightingale

Katherine rolled her eyes at the formality. A sticky note would’ve sufficed. It looked like Lord Nightingale still wanted for her to have dinner with him. Well, he would be disappointed. She might be stuck there in his weird castle in the hills, but that didn’t mean she would roll over and do whatever it was he wanted. She had turned down his request for a dinner companion during their negotiation. She wasn’t about the change her mind after one night.

She set the note aside and lifted the tray onto her lap; time to see what breakfast had in store. She lifted the cloche and was greeted by the delicious sight of buttermilk pancakes topped with fresh fruit and lightly whipped cream. The smell was heavenly and her stomach growled in appreciation. She shouldn’t eat the pancakes, especially as she’d indulged in the grease-fest that had been the grilled cheese sandwich at the bar the night before, but the temptation was too much. Lifting her cutlery she cut into the thick and fluffy stack and took a bite. A moan of delight left her mouth as the taste of creamy vanilla and tart berries danced over her tongue.

OK. So maybe this was going to be better than prison food.

After finishing every last scrap of her breakfast, Katherine downed the orange juice in greedy gulps. She sat back against the pillows and let out a sigh of contentment. With breakfast done with, she looked out into the room and pondered what she should do with her day. She was used to having a plan, having her studies to focus on. She couldn’t do any of that here. She’d need to get her stuff from her apartment. Had she known what her father had planned, she would’ve packed a few things to keep her occupied; namely her laptop. Who was she kidding; if she had known what her father had planned she wouldn’t have come.

She looked back down at her breakfast tray and realised she’d been absently stroking the petals of the pretty single rose that rested within the small vase. She had to admit, it was beautiful and a very nice addition to the aesthetics of her breakfast. She had never seen a rose the colour of lavender before, She picked up the stem and inspected the end, suspecting it had been dyed and some pigment would show, but it appeared to be natural. She placed the