Holding Hannah (Masters of The Castle)

by Maren Smith

  “Excuse me.”

  They both jumped. Goodson looked past her and his face actually paled. “David.” He straightened sharply back off his desk, schooling his expression into first belated neutrality and then a smile. “I’m sorry. I didn’t hear you come in.”

  Her uncle stood in the office doorway, his normally jovial features tense and cold. It was almost a full minute before he managed to pull his gaze off Goodson and put them on her instead. His features softened. “Hannah, honey, go sit down for a moment. I was hoping to take you to lunch, if you haven’t any other plans. But first—” his features visibly iced as he pinned his hard stare back on Goodson, “—I think perhaps it’s time ‘God’ and I had a little talk.”

  Hannah didn’t need to be asked twice. Angry heat flamed her face, and she didn’t realize how badly she was shaking until she tried to leave. She glanced back at Goodson. His jaw was clenched so tightly, it made the muscles tick along his jawline. He didn’t look at her at all.

  When she edged past her uncle, his hand settled on the small of her back, a comforting touch that helped usher her out the door.

  “I’ll be out in just a moment.” He shut the door softly between them and Hannah walked, stilted and tense, back to her temporary desk.

  She sat down to wait. It hurt like hell, but she welcomed the pain. It was comforting in a way—grounding, although it brought a rush of tears to her eyes. Or maybe that was the anger. She rubbed at her arm, feeling the weighted silence that emanated from that office until it grew almost too smothering to breathe around.

  For almost twenty minutes, nothing in the world seemed to move. Her chest rose and fell. The small hand on the wall clock ticked, keeping relentless time until, at last, Goodson’s door scraped open. By then, Hannah had already decided she was pretty much out of a job. She watched Goodson coming toward her, his face as hard and cold as steel, and tried to feel badly about it.

  Stopping in front of her desk, Goodson reached over to lay a small stack of papers, neatly paper-clipped together, before her. “I apologize if the things I said to you, Ms. Alder, were out of line.”

  No trace of apology lurked anywhere on him. His eyes remained hard, promising retribution just as soon as her uncle left again and they were once more alone. Without waiting for her reply, Goodson turned and went back into his office, edging around her uncle who had followed him out. He very quietly closed the door behind him.

  Her uncle looked at her, and then he smiled. Sliding his hands into his pockets, he sauntered over to her, circling around the desk until he stood right beside her chair.

  “Come here,” he said softly, beckoning her to stand and then putting his arms around her when she did. It was a fatherly embrace and she was surprised at how amazingly good it felt.

  “We love you,” he told her, patting her back once and then letting her go. “You’d best take those to Abigail. Tell her I said to put a rush on them. We need to get them filed before that sanctimonious weasel finds his balls and tries to circumvent me.”

  Hannah startled, looking first at him and then quickly reaching for the papers Goodson had left on her desk. She stared at them in disbelief. “He approved them!”

  Uncle David’s smile broadened slightly. “Go on.” He gave her a nudge toward the door. “We’ll talk at dinner tonight, all right?”

  Throwing her arms around him, Hannah hugged him fiercely.

  “You were always my favorite niece,” he said, squeezing her back. She laughed, but that wasn’t saying much; all her other cousins were boys. “You never did take any crap from anyone. It’s good to see that side of you coming back again.”

  “Thank you.” Papers clasped tightly in her hand, she grabbed her purse and ran for Abigail’s office.

  EPILOGUE

  Hannah drove down that long and winding dirt road, swallowed by wheat fields on all sides, but guided to the Castle by the sight of all that scaffolding rising high above the crops. She parked in the future lot—still not graded or graveled—and got out, her gaze sweeping through the groups of construction workers busily going about their various jobs. Sam wasn’t hard to find. He was standing next to his friend, Marshall, alternately poring over building plans and pointing at something across the half-finished courtyard. Neither one noticed her until she had almost reached them.

  “Hi,” she called and promptly stubbed her foot on a loose cobblestone. She stumbled, but Marshall caught her arm. Sam relieved him of that duty almost immediately.

  “You all right?” he asked, his initial surprise already giving way to something…hungrier.

  “Yes.” She rotated her ankle, discretely testing to make sure it would take her weight. She might have sprained it a little, but it didn’t hurt too badly. She could walk it off.

  “Hard hat!” Marshall called to a group of nearby workers. Someone jogged off to fetch one, but Sam already had his off and dropped on top of her head.

  “Yeah,” Marshall drawled. “That’ll make OSHA happy. To what do we owe the pleasure, Ms. Alder?”

  Hannah fumbled to get the manila envelope out of her purse. “I thought I should bring you these.”

  Marshall took what she held out to him, his blue eyes sparking with amusement. “We do get mail service, even all the way out here.”

  She rubbed her arm, flushing slightly as she admitted, “I was afraid to let them out of my hand. You know, just in case.”

  Both Marshall and Sam stared at her and then the envelope. Sam started laughing as his friend quickly tore it open and withdrew the contents.

  “I’ll be damned.” He laughed now too. “That son of a bitch actually approved us.” Though his smile never diminished, he shot her a suddenly stern look. “These are genuine, right?”

  She nodded. “Yeah, but don’t go thinking you’ve made a friend out of Goodson. If anything, I may have made it worse.”

  “That doesn’t hurt my feelings,” Sam grunted. “Dare I ask how you pulled off this little miracle?”

  “I got fired at the exact moment my uncle happened to walk into the room.” Hannah tried not to let it affect her smile. She tried not to wring her hands either, not wanting to come across as blackmailing as she asked, “Are…are you hiring, Mr. Leaf, because I really need a job.”

  Sam looked at Marshall, who glanced once at him and, as if on some unspoken signal, said, “We aren’t open yet, but I’m certain I could find a place to put you. I don’t suppose you’ve done construction before?”

  “No,” she admitted. “But I’m wicked good at getting coffee. And I can fetch and carry. And I’m not proud. I’ll wash windows, sweep floors, whatever needs to be done—”

  Marshall held up his hand, nodding. “You’re hired. Come on, step into my office and we’ll discuss particulars.”

  She wrung her hands even harder, wincing as she said, “Sam said there’ll be employee quarters here, when it’s built. C-can I have one? I’m living with family now and they’re nice people, but I can’t stay there.”

  “The employee apartments won’t be livable for at least another month.” Marshall looked at Sam again, again that unspoken communication passing between them. An entire discussion was argued and won in a matter of seconds. Marshall stifled a sigh and caved, “But I suppose there’s room for you back at the house. It’s cramped.”

  “I am very small,” she informed him.

  “There’s six bachelor Doms already living there.”

  “I cook, I do dishes and I don’t complain.”

  “You won’t get your own room,” Marshall warned.

  “My bed’s big enough for two,” Sam said, telling her as much as he was Marshall.

  That at once familiar bloom of heat unfurled down in her stomach, spreading lower as Sam’s warm hand settled on the small of her back. He stroked down, cupping her bottom, rubbing light circles from cheek to cheek.

  Her bottom was very tender. Even that light touch hurt. “Like I said, I won’t complain.”

  Marshall shook his head,
but not just at her. “You’re both crazy. I’m going to say this upfront and just once, then I’ll let it go. You’re both adults. I’m not going to referee or take sides. But if this thing,” he pointed between the two of them, “goes south, all Sam has to do is say you’re gone, and you’re gone. Are we clear?”

  Hannah nodded gratefully. “Thank you.”

  “You’re both crazy,” Marshall repeated, but then he turned and started into the castle, gesturing for her to follow him.

  She started to, until she felt the caress of a hand wrapping itself in her hair. Sam pulled her back against him, gradually applying pressure until she tipped her face to his. “Hi,” she whispered, his smile beginning to make her smile too.

  “Do you remember what you asked me last night, just before we got out of the car?”

  She had to think, but only for a moment. “Yes.”

  “I want to change my answer.” His eyes burned into hers. His handsome mouth was only a hairsbreadth from her lips.

  “What am I?” she obediently echoed, her nipples tightening, her body thrilling when he wrapped his other arm around her and pulled her fully against him.

  “Mine,” he whispered back, and then he kissed her.

  The End