Romance Fan Fiction / Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ Hidden Away ❯ No Contest ( Chapter 10 )

Disclaimer: This is an original novel and is under copyright. All rights are reserved.

 

 

 

 

Chapter 10

No Contest

 

 

 

Naomi awoke the next morning cursing the woodpecker that chose her room for its hammering. Sitting up in bed, she promptly realized that the noise that had woken her was not a bird, but a knock at her door.

 

“Who is it?” she asked, her words slurred by sleep, even though she knew who it would be. She was sure that she would have been notified if anyone else was in the house.

 

“It's Breagan,” said the sensuous voice from the other side of the door. Naomi woke fully at hearing him and rushed over to the armoire for her robe, then to the door, opening it slowly once she got there.

 

“Sorry, I didn't really want to open the door to someone I didn't know and try to explain my presence,” she explained to him.

 

“Don't be sorry, it's what I would want you to do,” Breagan informed her. He bit back a groan when he got his first look at her freshly woken face framed by disheveled locks. Her body was only covered by a mere nightgown and its robe. She looked fresh out of bed, and Breagan began reliving last night when he was partially atop her pliant form. She couldn't possibly know the effect she had on him.

 

She knew what he was thinking; she could see her own thoughts mirrored on his face as he looked at her. Her face started to feel flushed, so she cleared her throat, snapping him out of those alluring thoughts that she could almost see herself.

 

He blinked languidly and took a deep breath before he dared speak to her, lest he say something he didn't mean to. Before he got side-tracked again, he quickly told her why he was there, “I came up here to tell you that I am having the company of one of my contractors here today. You might want to stay in your room until someone comes to get you. I'm fairly sure that he wouldn't leak your whereabouts to Cokrain, but I want to ere on the safe side, okay?”

 

“Yes, definitely. I will stay in here,” she replied.

 

“Minna will be bringing your breakfast up in a minute. If there is anything you need, she will keep checking up on you so you won't be too bored today without my company,” he said, grinning at her.

 

Naomi smiled at his blatantly egotistical remark, “Actually, I noticed that a couple of the gowns in the armoire are in need of some repair,” she said, motioning in the direction of the armoire, “Could you have Minna bring up some sewing supplies so that I have something to keep my hands busy?”

 

“Sure,” Breagan said smoothly as he contemplated her for a second, then he bent down for a soft, lingerly peck on her petal-soft lips. He stood up straight again, looking at her a second longer before he headed downstairs to prepare for his company.

 

Naomi watched him walk away until he was no longer in sight. Still unhinged by the searing tenderness of his last kiss, Naomi turned from the door and went to the armoire in a giddy daze. Its doors were still open from her dash to get the robe a minute ago. She reached into it and pulled out the lavender gown she had been given to use, and a white gown with yellow flowers that she'd seen earlier with a tear in the sleeve. As she was inspecting the tear, Minna walked in with a tray of poached eggs and toast next to a glass of milk. Naomi laid the two gowns on the bed and looked up at Minna.

 

“I needed something to keep myself busy today,” Naomi said in explanation as she looked down at the hem of the lavender gown for the tear that she knew was there.

 

“Quit messin' wi' that, dearie, an' come to eat yer breakfast,” Minna said warmly, then noticed the white gown with the yellow flowers laid on the bed, “Ye know that ye `ave th' use of all th' dresses in there since ye be stayin' `ere,” she said, pointing to the gown.

 

“I only pulled it out to work on so that I would have something to do,” Naomi replied apologetically, “I wouldn't want to abuse your hospitality. I'm sure that the five gowns you picked for me should do fine.”

 

“Oh, pish. Ye could never do that. I think it would please Jake ta see th' dresses in use again,” and it won't hurt fer Jake ta see ye lookin' like ye belong `ere, she thought to herself with a wickedly giddy mental grin, “I brought all ye need fer sewin' up those dresses sa ye c'n wear `em,” Minna said, snapping herself out of her scheming.

 

“Thank you, Minna.” Naomi took the sewing kit and put it on the table by the window. Returning to the tray of food, Naomi looked at her breakfast, “These look delicious. Your dishes always make me so ravenous, Minna,” she praised.

 

“Ye flatter me, missy. I'm sorry I c'nt stey `ere `n' `elp wit th' sewin', but I've got ta get back ta those chores. You be sure an' close th' door behin' me, lass.” Naomi followed Minna and stopped at the doorway to close it as Minna told her to once she left. Turning around, she went to get started on her breakfast.

Half of the day had gone by when Breagan came into the room to inform her that the company he'd had that day was leaving, and she could come down for a late lunch with him, “Unless you want me too stay up here with you…” Breagan offered, not really expecting her to accept.

 

Naomi turned bright red in a heartbeat, oddly tempted to take his offer, “I don't think that would be a good idea. Grandchildren, remember?” she said to him quickly through a blush.

“Yes, you're right. But can you blame me for trying?” Breagan said in his defense. Naomi looked at him with a look that plainly said, `are you joking?'

 

“Are you going to take me down to lunch, or am I going to have to find my own way?”

 

He grinned at her, and crooked his arm for her to take. She took it without hesitation while smiling radiantly back at him.

 

Momentarily captivated by her smile, Breagan took a minute before leading her out of the room.

 

Once they were in the dining room, they were served yet another of Minna's delectable meals in short time.

 

By the time they were halfway done with lunch, everyone jumped when the front door suddenly opened.

 

A short, orange-haired woman in a rather lavish dress walked into the house carrying a neatly topped box in her perfectly manicured hands. Hearing people in the dining room, the woman walked into the dining room to see Breagan and his father finishing their noon meal.

 

“Oh, pooh, I'm too late to join you,” she said, stamping one well-decorated foot on the floor, then perking up as if she had an idea, “I know! Why don't you take me shopping to make to up to me when you've finished lunch, Breagan?” the woman asked, trying to look coyly at him, clearly expecting him to agree to her suggestion.

 

Naomi watched the scene, having cracked open the door leading to the kitchen, where she had dashed moments ago with a racing heart. Thank goodness it wasn't him again…but who was this woman? And who did she think she was kidding?

 

Breagan groaned inwardly and stole a look at his father, seeing the same on his face. There were many women trying to gain audience with Breagan Tyler, but this one in particular was the most persistent, and unfortunately, the most annoying of them all. Of course, Breagan had told her in a kind manner that he wasn't interested, but still hadn't gotten the message.

 

“I am sorry to inform you, Beatrice, but I will not be able to. I have prior engagements that need attending to. And I do tire of having to remind you that I have already conveyed my feelings toward you,” he answered her as he got up, intent on showing her out.

 

“What are you doing, barging into people's houses, anyway?” Jake scolded the dense woman as he would a child.

 

“Whatever could you mean, Jake? Am I not welcome here?” she asked, coating her eyes with the tears that usually got men to console her the way she wanted. Jake and Breagan weren't having any of it.

 

The men looked at each other, each knowing they would rather tell her 'hell no', but that simply wasn't polite. Jake turned back to Beatrice and answered her, “You will only be welcomed if you announce your presence at the door and wait to be invited in like everyone else,” Jake replied from his seat at the table.

 

Disregarding Jake's answer as unimportant since the house would eventually be hers anyway, Beatrice brought forward the gift she'd taken upon herself to buy for Breagan with her dwindling supply of money.

 

“Here, Darling. I got you a little gift,” she beamed at Breagan who stopped mid-step, disarmed at her expression, “Since I've never seen you in one, I figured you didn't have one, so here you are,” she offered proudly before handing over the gift.

 

As she practically shoved the box into his face, Breagan eyed the box as if afraid that it would attack his arm. He offered the woman a strained smile at her garish gesture, “Beatrice, that was very kind of you, but you didn't have to. Really.”

 

“Oh, but I wanted to, sweetie,” she purred sweetly. Misreading Breagan's wince at the nickname for hesitancy, she continued, “Consider it a token of my thanks for the invitation to that wonderful party last week,” she said, leaving out the fact that she'd essentially invited herself.

 

“Oh, just take it, son,” Jake urged his son. The sooner he took the thing, the sooner she would just leave, “It might not bite you,” he mumbled around a bite of food.

 

Suppressing a sigh, Breagan finally took the package from her and lifted the lid to find a tall, dark blue top hat nestled snugly in the center of the box. Chancing a dubious look at the female who'd paid good money on this thing, he pulled the atrocity apart from its packaging.

 

Beatrice squealed another set of giggles when his hands touched the tempered silk of the hat. She'd seen the hat in a window, and decided that if she were to make this man her husband, he needed to look the part of the unbelievably rich. Which, of course he was. These hats had left mainstream fashion a couple of decades ago, and only the rich wore them anymore. The man really didn't know how to live richly.

 

Setting down the empty box, Beatrice giddily captured the hat from Breagan's hands. Before he could properly react, she took her own liberties and plopped the thing on his delightfully silky head.

 

“There, now. Don't you look positively dashing?” She gushed foolishly with her hands grasping each other in front of her face.

 

Now, before this stunt, Breagan was simply tolerating her. Now he wanted nothing more than to throttle her with her own perfume.

 

Jake, for his part, seemed to have suddenly lost the ability to school his features and resorted to studying the wallpaper off to the side of the room, his deviously amused smile protectively shielded with a hand.

 

Breagan could easily hear suspicious snorting sounds coming from the direction of the kitchen, too. Apparently, Minna wasn't above finding entertainment at her own charge's misfortune.

 

Gauging the family's reaction at her ploy, Beatrice decided to switch tactics.

 

Bringing tears to her mud-colored eyes, she began her turn and deflated her stature, “Oh. You don't like it,” she said sadly, “It's okay, I guess. I'm sure I could find something else as proper thanks. Somehow…” she peeked up through her brassy hair hoping to see shame on their faces for causing her melancholy, and she found no such gullibility.

 

Beatrice was disheartened that her ploy hadn't worked, but was not surprised. They never worked on this family. That was only one of the many reasons that she had her sights on the most sought after bachelor in town. Of course she had men sniffing at her skirts, but she didn't want those paupers. She wanted Breagan Tyler and his beautiful money...that father of his wasn't half bad, either. She also liked the challenge of trying to manipulate the men, and she was having a time with it. It had never been so difficult to get what she wanted.

 

Pulling the offensive article off of his head, Breagan began to head her in the direction of the door, “It's okay, Beatrice. It was nice of you to extend such a gift. I'm sure I'll find some use for it. Maybe you should go to see your mother, Beatrice. I'm sure that she would be thrilled to go shopping,” Breagan suggested.

 

Beatrice narrowly avoided scoffing at that; she couldn't go shopping until she had money to shop with. She and her mother had exhausted their own funds already. Unfortunately for her, it seemed she would not be gaining an audience with him again today, thus making it appear as if she were being courted by him. She so wanted to be the envy of the town once again.

 

“Some other day, then. I shall look forward to it,” she nodded before sticking out her bottom lip and walking to the door, exaggerating the swing of her hips and looking at Breagan coyly from over her shoulder. Jake finally recovered enough control of his features and got up from his seat with relief at her departure, and started after her to see her out of the house.

Naomi was disgusted with the woman's rudeness. She'd acted as is she wasn't very bright, but Naomi could see the clear thinking behind that woman's fiery-brown eyes. That woman knew what she was doing, though she wasn't doing a terribly good job at it.

 

When the front door closed and Breagan reappeared, Naomi came from her hiding place in the kitchen.

 

“My goodness, that scared me. Who was that woman?” she asked, curious about the shameless piece of work she'd just seen.

 

“That was Beatrice de Carmille,” Jake explained, “She's been trying to get Breagan's name behind hers like the other women around here. This particular one simply won't take no for an answer, and we seem to be some of the only people around here who know she isn't really that dense.”

 

“You see through it too, huh? She didn't convince me, either.” Naomi commented, taking her place again to continue eating.

 

The others sat back down in their own places as well, “Saw through her the minute she opened her mouth,” Breagan added, “With that being the case, she is one person who doesn't need to see you at this house, because she would let Cokrain know where you are. The Carmilles are hurting for money, so that would give her very good reason for it. No doubt she would also look upon you as competition, I'm sure,” he concluded with exasperation, thinking of the hard time Beatrice gave his sister until she learned who she was, therefore presenting no competition, “We will just have to take extra precaution so she doesn't discover that you're staying here,” Breagan finished. It was getting harder and harder to hide Naomi; she stood out like a rose among thorns.

 

Maybe, he thought, they would do good to attempt getting out of there for a little while. If Cokrain were to know where she was anyway, they might as well try to get her past the men watching the house to hide her somewhere else. He would go with her, and then he could figure out how to end this ordeal.