Ravenous

Four

Richard wasn't sure why he'd told Mia Harnett about his past. When he met her gaze, seeing those hazel eyes, he was struck by her beauty. A tingling gooseflesh rippled from his arm down to his leg, making him shiver in spite of the layers of clothes he wore. It hadn't mattered if he'd not known her name yet. Upon laying his eyes on her, something came alight, inflaming his core.

Once he met those eyes, and it pierces through his own, his guard disappeared. Her hair fell below her shoulder like raven silk. He could imagine her skin taste like sweet caramel; her flush face like cherry as he left a mark. It made him shiver yet again.

He shook the cranial thought aside. It was inappropriate with his grandmother merely inches beside him.

"Oh, I nearly forgot to mention it to ye. I offered ye to help Mia," Adelia said. Her word brought him out of his trance.

"Help? What do ye mean help?"

"Ye ken what I mean. She would want someone to give her a tour, or a hand settling in town."

He groaned and bit his lips otherwise a terse remark would follow. "Aye. And what did she say?"

She scoffed. "She said yes, obviously."

He thought his heart stop for a second.

"Mo ghràidh, is there something wrong?" Adelia asked sincerely. She used the term of endearment in the old tongue on three occasions. One of them is when she knew she'd mistaken what she thought would be a reasonable judgment—in his account.

The silence grew in the cold confines of the car.

"Aye, grannie, everything is great." He finally choked a reply.

The lie was thick on his throat. His grip on the steering wheel tightened from the memory of it. He let out a heavy breath, his eyes not straying away from the dark road in front of them. The beetle Volkswagen roared as he hit the gas pedal.

Richard snuck a peek at his grandmother. Even in the dim light of the car, he saw a faint silhouette of her mischievous smile. He knew what's going through her mind. What plot she had up her sleeve, unaware of its reason until the very end. In his younger years, there were times his grandmother conspired some sort of plan to get favor from his late grandfather. Yet he'd never recognize early signs if he was on the receiving end. Not until it was too late.

However, she was too obvious at the moment. Maybe the darkness played a trick on him. He might be seeing things or misunderstood his grandmother's intention. Maybe she did only want to help her.

Now his thoughts returned to her, his prior sensual imagination resurfaced. For once, he was annoyed at the car. If he'd want to make it through the night, he'd have to take a cold shower.

****

In the morning, he tried to focus on his usual daily chores. Most of the farm responsibilities were dealt with Mr. Peter Ramsay, his wife, Mindy, and son, Alfie, who his grandparents hired long before he stayed with him. They were trusted employees and considered family. Yet the farm wasn't the only form of living his grandparents catered.

They also owned a diner and pub in town called, The Tavern (it was a bit on the nose and fitting of its services.) In the evening, the place became a den of working men, clamoring inside with beers and local ale in hand, jeering about their days' work – farming, fishing, or other forms of labor.

Last night, he'd left the place in the hands of Mrs. Imelda Clarence, the cook, and her daughter, Greta. Her husband, Mr. Henri Clarence, was the island's headmaster of the only school for the local children. At first, Mr. Clarence wasn't keen having his wife help run a facility majorly served drunkards. However, when Richard's grandfather was alive, he convinced Mr. Clarence to approve his wife's job. And nearly nine years in service, Mrs. Clarence became a trusted employee, whom Richard looked up to now he's running it in place of his grandfather.