Heavy Burdens 《Completed》- -

Chapter 3

The hearth in the kitchen is burning bright, feeling the warmth on her skin as soon as Liz sits down. She's taken of her coat and gloves, so she's able to drink the hot coffee that Grace offers her. Her eyes keeps flickering towards Declan, who's now standing before the fire and leaning with his elbow against the chimney above it. He seems to be lost in thought and Liz can see the flames reflecting in his eyes.

Sadness. It's all she can think off while staring at him. He looks tough, sounds rude but when he turns silent, it's like a shroud of sadness engulfs him in a whole. She doesn't know his true story. Has no clue what really happened to him only that he wants Lord Benton dead. Liz scoffs at her own thoughts, deserving a glance from him. Even she, a widow with nothing left, didn't like the reign of Lord Benton anymore.

After the brokers came to claim William's debts, the officers of Lord Benton payed her a visit. Trying to claim the house to use as shelter for his soldiers during winter. She'd refused, and an angry Chesterfield had left her property. It was Lord Benton himself who showed up next. Trying to talk her into sharing her house. Again, she'd reclined but the old man must have taken a liking to her because he'd left without using force or threats.

It was from that day, Elizabeth had been invited on a regular basis to go and have dinner with Benton. And from the invitations, she'd knew she had no other choice then to go and keep him company for a few nights a week. It was clear that he'd take her house otherwise, leaving her on the street with nothing.

The more time she had to spend with Benton, the more she grew to hate him. His views on the native people living here were harsh and cruel. She knew how he treated his solders and she pitied them. All of them, except Chesterfield. The man couldn't help himself to verbally insult her every time their paths crossed each other.

Her calm was what kept her alive at this point. The patience and the never-ending forced smiles towards Benton kept her safe from Chesterfield and kept the roof above her head. But she'd started to carry a weapon strapped close to her body anytime she went out or took the trip to his mansion. Liz wouldn't doubt she'd be able to have his blood on his hands if he ever dared to touch her.

A woman needs a man in these parts of the world. Or at least, that's what Benton had told her so many times. Someone to protect her and keep her fed. Liz haz no doubt he thought he'd be that man, but she friendly turned down any of his offers to make her his wife. Even with the promises he wouldn't touch her unless she wanted too.

The thought alone makes her shiver on her seat, her stomach turning thinking about those hands running up her thighs and Liz must shake her head to chase the thoughts away. Her eyes back to Declan who's now watching her again, his back turned to the fire and one hand brushes through his hair.

All of what happened to her and her current situation with Benton, makes her doubt that all the stories about Declan Harp arz true. And for just a moment, she dares to consider how'd be without Benton or Chesterfield in town. And the vision she has was peaceful, even her lips curl up in a faint smile. Making Declan frown.

"So, what do you know," he asks, moving slowly to sit opposite of her. His elbows leaning on the table and glaring at her.

She meets his gaze, steady and stubborn making him smirk. "What do you need to know? I can give you everything; the numbers of men and the changing of the guard before the mansion. How many chambers they have and who's visiting, Sir."

He licks his lips before drinking from his cup, his eyes not leaving her face. When done, he put his cup down and only then, he looks away through the window. The streets are filling with people, merchants who ware trying to sell their wares and soldiers starting to patrol the area. Making it more dangerous for him to leave unnoticed. But he turns back to the woman sitting in front of him.

Her chin is raised and there's a fire in her eyes that Declan can't pin down where it comes from. Her dress is black, so are her gloves and he knows she's a widow in mourning. Yet, her eyes are bright and there no lines under those blue orbs of her. She doesn't look miserable at all by the passing of her husband. The young woman sure is beautiful enough to re-marry and start her life somewhere else if she wants.

"Why help me?"

His question is sincere and his voice calm.