Free Chained: Reckless Desires (Dragon's Heart Book 1) by Jacqueline Sweet Page B

Probably he couldn’t either.
    After ten breaths, he regained control of himself and stood again. When he turned toward her, the monster was gone and the man returned.
    “Forgive me, please. The day has been exhausting. I can’t keep it in much longer.”
    What was his deal? If it was mental illness, it was like nothing she’d seen or heard of before. Growing up, she had an aunt who was diagnosed as schizophrenic who refused her medication nine days out of ten. She knew what it looked like and Winterborn—whatever he had going on did not resemble mental illness on any but a superficial level.
    Winterborn moved a pile of papers on his desk and underneath was a key. An old, large key forged of iron and then decorated with golden inscriptions. Winterborn tossed it to her without even looking. The gold had flaked off where the business end of the key was, but the handle was still beautiful. Spread wings, like those of a bat, formed the handle.
    “This key will allow you access to the rest of the manse. You will have the run of the estate, but I ask you to please avoid disturbing rooms unless there is great need. Do not explore just for exploration’s sake. Curiosity is not a virtue in Winter’s Breath.”
    “Why is it called that?”
    “It’s what my father named this place when he had it built back in 1923. He had a rivalry with Hearst, you see. And when Hearst built that eyesore castle down the coast, my father felt compelled to follow suit, but do it better. And when Hearst named his castle, my father also had to. He was competitive. Childishly so.”
    Bella tried to do the math on the former Lord’s age, but the sums kept coming up impossible. “If your father built this in 1923, and died just a few years ago, how old was he?”
    A mystery sparkled in Dorian’s eyes. “His birth certificate claimed he was born in 1920. But do you know many three-year-olds who have the wherewithal to commission architects? But I am getting off track. I’ll be out for the day. I need to tour the outer buildings with Mister Hart. There’s been some vandalism, you see.” A spasm passed through him and he bent over to grab the desk. His body went rigid with the effort of holding back his madness. “On my desk,” he said through gritted teeth. “A folder. For you. Read it.”
    Bella stepped forward, approaching him with slow quiet steps as if he was a sleeping lion. She saw the folder. Her name was written on a sticky note in jagged handwriting. She snatched the folder quickly and retreated, but not before catching the scent of the man. He smelled like burning spices, like toasted cinnamon or cardamom pods in a fire. It was a warming, pleasant scent at first but it turned rough and slightly foul at the end.
    “Find a room. You shall move in here. I may need you at any hour,” he said in his gentle voice and Bella’s toes made little fists in her shoes involuntarily. I may need you reverberated through her like she was a bell that had been rung. “There are clothes. From old employees or former residents. Find them.”
    “Yes, I will. Thank you,” she said fighting the urge to curtsey.
    “We will get started tomorrow. Okay? And maybe I can show you around the grounds? I’d like that.”
    Bella nodded at him and then slipped out the door with the key in hand.
    Rodney was waiting, just outside the door. He had a corner he liked to lean in, waiting until Winterborn needed him. On a low table in front of him was a heap of suits that needed mending. Rodney had a needle and thread and was patching up rips.
    “Is this what you do, then?” Bella asked him.
    “The master has a habit of tearing his clothing in his tempers,” he said after he’d plucked the needle from between his teeth. “One of my many trusted duties is to fix them for him.” Then he raised an eyebrow at her. “How did it go in there? Are you fired?”
    “I would have thought you could hear from out here,” she said. She’d been able to when she was