Chapter
2
Tavian Dinescu frowned when he entered
the dining room. The table had not been laid. His breakfast tea was
not at his place, nor was his newspaper. There was no fire in the
hearth, no noise or scent of food coming from the
kitchen.
And no Elena standing at the
stove.
Where was that girl?
Thinking perhaps she had overslept, he
went down the hall to her room and knocked lightly on the door.
“Elena?”
When there was no answer, he rapped
again, harder this time. And when there was still no reply, he
opened the door and stepped into the room. The bed, neatly made,
was empty.
Moving into the room, he went through
the dresser drawers, peered into the closet. As far as he could
tell, all of her clothes were there, so she couldn’t have gone far,
but the question remained: Where was she?
He checked the other rooms, then went
outside, but she was nowhere to be found.
Rubbing a thoughtful hand over his jaw,
he returned to the house. Had she run off with one of the local
boys? That seemed unlikely. Just last night, he had asked if she
had taken a liking to any of the young studs and her reply had been
a resounding “no.”
Hunger rumbled in his stomach. Not one
to prepare his own meals, Tavian put on his coat and left the
house. He would breakfast in town and then he would ask if anyone
had seen Elena. Though he was affluent, she was not. She had
nothing to call her own, only what he had given her.
Tavian was a man who knew what he
wanted, and he wanted Elena for his bride. And so it would be. She
was but a woman and his ward. Like it or not, she would do as he
commanded or suffer the consequences.