Jana’s blood boiled underneath her skin, every fiber of her being screaming at her to lash out. However, before she could react, the door was closed and the loud click of a lock being put to use informed her that she was trapped.
The brunette growled in frustration, kicking at the foot of the bed. She should have moved faster when she’d had the chance. No – she should have just drowned at sea. Though… of course, Boaz was the god of the sea. He probably wouldn’t have let that happen, either.
What he couldn’t stop though, Jana figured, was her escape through other means. Looking around, she began to formulate ideas. She’d read of daring escapes made by dashing heroes in the novels she preferred – she’d always sort of identified with the male protagonist for some odd reason, though she knew better than to admit that – and she took note of the items at her disposal. There were windows, and bedsheets, and several dresses that had been laid out for her. None of them struck her fancy, so she felt no guilt in destroying them in order to escape.
Jana lifted the hefty, flouncy blue skirt of her gown and removed that godforsaken bustle. Whoever invented bustles, she determined, was either a complete misogynist, or a complete idiot (though she would concede that those two often went hand in hand). She’d never worn the garment at home and she would not start now.
The brunette, now being free of any excess fabric or boning, grabbed the sheets off her bed and put them in a pile with the dresses, then looked out the window.
She was at least three stories up, and it seemed highly unlikely that the bedsheets would be long enough to get her down to the ground. Even if they did, she reasoned, it was likely that Bo or a servant of his would see her shimmying down the makeshift rope and stop her.
Jana sighed in frustration and began taking off her dress. She decided that if she was at a disadvantage anyway, she wouldn’t let Bo have any easy wins. The bedsheets would become her new clothes. They’d be easier to move around in, at least.
Halfway through wrapping the bedsheet around herself, toga-style, the door opened. Jana whipped her head around to see a mousy handmaiden come in with a gorgeous ruby red gown trimmed with gold lace, and a box of cosmetics.
“My master sent me to ensure you would be ready for dinner, Miss Jana,” she said, giving her the slightest of curtsies.
Something about being referred to in that way made Jana cringe internally and she glowered at the poor unsuspecting handmaiden.
“You can tell Boaz to take his dinner and shove it up his arse,” she growled, garnering a horrified gasp from the handmaiden.
“I… I don’t believe I can tell him that, actually, Miss Jana.”
“Then have him come here and I’ll gladly do it for you,” she said, venom lacing every word.
The handmaiden looked down at the floor. “Please. I’m just doing as I’m told. And if you just do as he asks, it’ll make life easier on all of us… yourself included, Miss.”
“I’ll do no such thing. He might hold power over you, but he has nothing on me. I will starve if I have to,” Jana replied curtly.
Bo straightened the lapels of his formal jacket, brushing an arm off as he strode down the long hall laid out before him. He was on his way to the kitchens for a quick peek at the food and then to the dining hall to inspect the table to ensure everything was set according to his specifications. Tonight was his and Jana’s first dinner together -- he wanted each detail to be absolutely perfect.
A door slammed and pulled him from his thoughts, forcing him to cast a glance around to find the source of the noise. Moments later, a handmaid stormed past the adjoining hallway, hair disheveled and muttering to herself. Bo’s brows furrowed. That couldn’t be good.
He jogged along, catching her only a few feet ahead of him after he’d turned the corner.
“Miss,” he called out and she tossed a look over her shoulder before halting in place immediately when she saw it was him, her upset demeanor melting away into servitude. She reached up to flatten her hair as he neared her, but her attempts to right herself weren’t lost on him.
“What in Heaven and Earth happened to you?” Bo’s eyes were kind as he scrutinized her, attempting to put the pieces together. He’d sent her to take care of Jana, and she returned like this? The blatant disrespect of his guest caused his lips to bend into a frown.
“I tried to do as you asked, Sir,” the woman curtsied as she spoke quickly, a trace of fear in her eyes. “Miss Jana wouldn’t allow me to dress her. She... pushed me away and we... tussled. I fear I let my anger get the best of me for only a moment.” She hung her head in shame, prepared to take a verbal punishment from Bo for her actions. “It won’t happen again, I swear. I only needed a moment to cool my head and I was going to return to finish.”
Bo reached out and tilted her chin up with a finger so he could meet her eyes. In any other case, he would be furious that his orders weren’t being followed, but he knew this one was a lost cause. He’d simply have to dress Jana himself if he wished her to be in the dining hall with him. Her attitude wouldn’t allow anything otherwise. He was beginning to wonder if he’d bitten off more than he could chew with this woman.
“No need,” he replied, giving her a gentle smile. “I will take care of our guest. Run along and see if your help is needed in the kitchens.”
His hand dropped away and the maid nodded, no doubt grateful she’d been spared his wrath just this once. “Of course, Sir,” she said as she curtsied once more and rushed off, leaving Bo to himself in the hall.
He turned on his heel, jaw set, and strode back toward Jana’s room.
Bo let the door slam shut behind him, announcing his presence.
“I have half a mind to turn you over my knee for subjecting that poor woman to your savagery,” Bo growled low in his chest as he crossed to her, reaching out to wrap a large hand around Jana’s upper arm to keep her from backing away. “You can curse me, spit at me, and fight me all you like, but you are not to lay a hand on my waitstaff, is that clear?”
He waited a beat for an answer and when he didn’t get one, he pressed again, his thumb sinking further into her bicep.
Bo pursed his lips and released Jana, turning his back to her so he could cast a long look out onto the grounds below her window. Surely by now she’d gone through every escape scenario and realized that climbing from the window meant a drop to her death. Not that he would let her get that far, of course. The thought pushed his brows together. It was fortunate for him that she seemed stubborn enough to want to live just a bit longer.
... And fashion her sheets into clothing instead.
He had to remind himself to stay incensed. The sight of her wrapped in a sheet made him smirk and heat coil in his belly, and that was not conducive to a proper scolding.
“I am not a monster, Jana,” he said, voice laced with irritation. “I wish to see you fed and well taken care of, both of which are non-negotiable.” He turned back to her, voice hard though his expression was calm. He was not going to let her play him like she had played every weak man on that ship of hers.
“I gather that you would rather meet your end due to starvation, but I’m afraid that just isn’t going to happen. So I present you with two options: you’re going to be a good girl and wear the dress, or you’re going to dine naked. But either way, you’re coming downstairs with me, even if I have to hoist you over my shoulder and hand-feed you myself.”
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