Chapter ten

Chapter ten

Normally, the rich were independent of the poor, and sometimes even turned them to part of their wealth.

But when that unfortunate moment came that the cream would need help from the less affluent, it normally stirred confusion.

But to Monica, it was amusing instead. She tilted her head with a grin while she watched the men, "Oh my…"

Absent mindedly, she threw the bag of money back to Braxton and curtsied for the millionth time, "Well I am at your service."

"You will have to join us to the empire," Peter informed her.

And that was when she realized she had no horse. And what a pleasant idea she thought of then, "Can I ride with you my Lord," she asked while facing the Earl of Vetcom.

Instantly, Jason huffed and pulled the straps of his animal, riding away from all of them. Well that made the lady smile in satisfaction.

But then her stare travelled to a footman riding behind the Monarchs. How dare he be on a horse while she was looking for one!

"Get down," she commanded.

The man watched the Duke to find his reaction, expecting a rebuke. Undoubtedly, his face was ashen white with fear and he still debated whether or not to obey her.

Now though, the Scottish was angry. Clenching a fist, she slapped his horse, "Do not waste my time or I will make sure to make shoes out of your hair!"

Unconsciously, the footman placed a hand on his head, stroking the blond curls in pure pride. But what she said…?

He immediately descended for love of his hair, and mostly out of fear she could actually do it.

Monica grinned almost immediately afterwards as she climbed on the animal.

"Let's go My Lords," she said.

Philip had a smile on while he avoided looking at her. Earl had a much smaller one. The others didn't seem surprised at all.

Moments of riding after and the trip back to the Duke's mansion turned into a race. Jason was on the lead of course. He hadn't imported the Arabian horse for nothing, built with strength and fury. In all, it seemed to change the mood to something lighter.

Back at the market though, Braxton still stood in shock. Last time he checked, this was the thief they had thrown into the Duke's home for punishment. How did they all get acquainted?

***

"When I say gold, I mean gold," Michael Aflong snarled to the military man, "You would not believe the amount of fortune Kilmarnock has."

Well then Mareda had a new Viscount, not any less different from his father. We're speaking of the greedy part here.

Even the General before him grimaced a little bit at his action, "But His Grace owns the land at the moment."

As if he didn't know that, he sighed in frustration, calming the sudden excitement that was soaring through his veins. What a graceful change of mood. He shut his eyes tight in anger and stated without thinking, "I need that land."

"How," Nax chuckled, "His Majesty handed it over to the Duke's father after he ripped it off the hands of that Duke of Kilmarnock. I mean this is Philip Forland we speak of My Lord."

Micheal Aflong was not less of a blonde than his sister, with features so prominent, striking was an understatement.

His brows arched just over his fair brown eyes, "I thought my father's death was going to open doors for me. But with the new Duke in office, it will take a lot more time than I expect." His frown softened slowly, strangely into a small smile, "But that is why I have you. I don't care about Philip or the King. I need that Southern duchy of Scotland in my possession at all cost. Being just a Viscount can be so degrading sometimes."

The military man frowned at the younger man, still studying him. It was obvious he did not know what he was asking for. Ownership of Kilmarnock! Well that was one big request. But nothing was too big when acquiring power was concerned, was it? If there was something above the Military General, he wanted it too.

"I can get the Duke out of the way for you," he finally said to Micheal.

"Killing him is not an option Nax," the blond sighed.

"You see My Lord, my years in the military has given me much more wisdom than that. These days, killing somebody does not completely get you on the safe spot. I can get you the seal of ownership sighed by His Majesty. With help of the Duke of course."

And now, Micheal was staring at him, more like gawking. That look someone gave you when they did not want to call you foolish out of respect but you had to know it somehow.

And Nax read the look correctly, laughing with plain innocence, "Well permit me to keep much of the details to myself Micheal. Because when the result comes, you'll give me more credit than yourself."

Micheal grinned because that was slightly impossible. Not getting Kilmarnock, but giving him all the credit for that. However, till then. He nodded at the older man who bowed and walked away.

Then he brought his gaze back to his front, lost in thought and anticipation.

This could work…

***

"So what do you need my help with?" Monica braced her hands on her hips while walking into the office with the men.

Instead of an answer, Philip slumped into his chair behind the table and pointed at the one before him, "Please sit." The others stood at both sides of them.

So she was being offered a seat. This seemed more serious than she thought. Slowly, Monica studied them while she sat down, "What is wrong?"

This time, she couldn't fake a smile as always. The worry she always felt seeped its way to her face this time.

Leaning forward, The Duke stared straight into the green eyes before him, "We believe part of your country belongs to me."

Almost afterwards, Peter slapped his arm in rebuke, "Couldn't you have gone easy on her. That was sudden."

"I'll call it straightforwardness," Philip retorted.

The Marquess broke his vow of letting them talk in peace and pitched in, "Not in this situation Your Grace."

The others added a sentence or two, turning the whole meeting into a small argument.

The lady glowered sadly at all of them. Did the rich always behave like that?! It was her sigh that brought them back to their senses.

Philip noticed the mistake before any other, "We are sorry Monica," he held his hand out in demonstration, "what do you think about the whole thing?"

That question...

She sighed again. They were really having this conversation. It was supposed to be a happy moment for her, but deep down somewhere, the reality that these men owned what was once hers was annoying.

"I want my home back," she said truthfully.

Jason looked at her, the first trace of pity he had ever truly had showing in his features, "We are here to help you get it back."

All eyes fell on him at that instant, some in surprise, the rest in amusement. And of course Monica found it exciting.

When he noticed that, he quickly added, "Because it will really go a long way to take you far away from me."

The Scottish did a smirk, then a snicker. This was really happening, "You would really give the duchy back?"

The Duke smiled reassuringly and answered, "We will try. Let us meet with the King. The rest would fit into place."

She rose from her seat.

Don't cry before them, she said to herself while blinking the tears away. How weak that made her feel.

"I am very very grateful for this. I promise to help in anyway I can," she finally declared.

The Earl of Vetcom shook his head, faking disgust at the mushy mood the room had. He began stamping his boots while walking away, "You can start by being less annoying."

Her smile returned.

Monica half ran to catch up with him, hopping with a childlike grace, "If only you could eat up your pride, we can be best of friends!"

He grabbed his velvet robe from the rack, determined to ignore her. But those words...

Jason looked at the woman with a glare. And a small sign of belittlement, "Friends?! I'd rather not, thank you."

She followed him anyways, less enthusiastically this time though, the rest a few inches behind her.

This was a memory she'd remember, walking with six young English men through the Anfield empire. All six blessed with different features entirely, inside and out.

And even when the Duke began explaining what the drawings on the wall meant, she was not paying attention. Monica looked at him, not willing to hold back the usual lust that fell over her whenever she did. His brown hair was the silkiest, as least that was how she felt. And now, Amber eyes were her favorite because he had them.

Now her attention went to his voice, not particularly what he was saying, but how he sounded.

That little tone of pride when he touched artefacts that could not be found anywhere else in the world! He did not look like the beautiful, young and naive Duke at the moment. He looked like a leader he was. Her leader.

Speaking of leader, she thought of the different ways in which she could submit to him. And oh her mind went places. Thinking about how good he was with his hands made her curious.

The same voice that got her thinking pervetive brought her back to reality, "Why don't I introduce you to my family?"

And all anger returned.

She frowned once more while stalking slowly to the door of the living room beside Philip Forland.

The female voices that filled the room seemed to pass everything else and bang right on her eardrums, teasing her to full annoyance.

Monica gasped slowly. This was it…