If You're Going to Sell Yourself, Sell It to Me - Chapter 118

Willow, who was about to run to win them over, was blocked by Robert.

“Look closely, they’re not ordinary men. If we talk to them carelessly, we could end up dead.”

Just as Robert feared, unlike other groups that included women and children, these rioters were all men, each carrying at least one gun—possibly ones they had seized. About half had handkerchiefs covering their faces.

Rumor had it that the bounty-hunted gunslingers from the West had recently flooded into the South—some of them were even skilled horsemen.

They clearly weren’t escaped slaves.

Robert, who knew all too well how volatile Western gunslingers were, wanted to let them go, but Willow had a different idea.

If the man who had been with Georgiana was a renowned soldier, ordinary slaves wouldn’t stand a chance against him.

That made it all the more urgent not to lose this opportunity.

Besides, Willow had once had dealings with thugs.

“Wait a moment.”

When Willow stepped out of the bushes, all the muzzles pointed at him. He raised both arms and approached slowly.

His bad arm ached from being lifted so high, and it took effort not to curse under his breath.

One of the men, with a long scar across his face, glanced at the unarmed Willow and gestured for the others to lower their guns.

“You’ve got guts. What do you want? If you’re blocking our way for some petty nonsense, you won’t be spared. That goes for the guy hiding too.”

The man’s eyes moved past Willow to Robert, who was hiding behind a tree.

Robert stepped out with a hiccup.

Willow kneeled first and addressed the group.

“I know where there’s a lot of cash. If you do me this favor, I’ll tell you where it is.”

Heh. Heh.

The men burst into loud laughter.

“A guy who looks like that knows where money is?”

Having gone days without a proper wash, Willow and Robert turned red and couldn’t respond.

Even they looked like beggars.

“That’s because that man stole all our money. And he took my sister too.”

“What, you want revenge? You want to use us?”

“Use you? Absolutely not. I don’t care about the money he took. I only want my sister back.”

Willow bowed his head low.

“Why should we believe you?”

In response to the man’s question, Willow pulled a small framed portrait from his coat.

“This girl is my sister. She even had a marriage arranged, but that man lured her away to the New World. Our father is a baron—he even sold his title, and all that money was stolen.”

Such scams were common in the West, so no one cared much—until one man glanced at the photo and widened his eyes.

“Is this really your sister?”

“What?”

“You don’t look alike at all.”

The men at the front began to show interest and passed the photo around.

“With looks like hers, I get why someone would run off with her.”

“So, you’ll help us?”

“With a backstory like that, of course we’ll help. Just don’t be greedy—we get all the loot.”

The men grinned with sly smiles.

“Of course. My father and I only want my sister back in the arms of her family.”

Though uneasy at the sight of them licking their lips, Willow nodded. As long as he could get Georgiana out of there, it didn’t matter.

Soon, the armed men turned toward Locke’s estate.

***

“It’s nothing short of a miracle. How are you healing so quickly?”

Georgiana, who had been ready to scold the doctor if the wound had worsened, was dumbfounded by his astonishment.

The arm, now free of its bandage, showed only faint marks where the stitches had been. The wound didn’t seem at risk of reopening at all.

He had been using a saw and hammer just yesterday—and yet he was completely fine.

Georgiana once again marveled at Locke’s physical strength.

“Would you walk in a straight line?”

When the doctor asked him to walk along the line on the wooden floor, Locke made a round trip without using a crutch. His confident stride showed no sign of injury.

“See? I told you I was all healed.” Locke lifted his chin and smiled.

“The wound is healing well, so at this rate, you won’t even need bandages in a few days. Usually, these wounds fester for a month or two, so this is remarkable. I’ll rewrap it and be on my way. I’ll return in two weeks to check again.”

“No need for the bandage. Leave it there. Thank you for taking the time to come all the way out here. Is everything alright at Raymond’s plantation?”

“Yes. I visited for the regular check-up yesterday—it’s peaceful. Ah, Miss Angela asked me to deliver a letter. I almost forgot.”

The doctor pulled a bright lavender envelope—quite unlike him—from his bag.

On flowery stationery were neatly penned, childlike letters:

[Leona, how is it there? Here, the autumn flowers are beginning to bloom. Angela feels so lonely without you. I want to play house again and go eat delicious cake together. Please come visit for Thanksgiving next month. Becky seems to miss you too. She keeps interrupting me while I write. I’ll write again soon.]

Black paw prints were stamped all over the paper. They looked like Becky’s inked footprints, and imagining that meticulous cat walking around with ink on her paws made Georgiana laugh.

“Would you wait just a moment?”

Feeling guilty about receiving the letter empty-handed, Georgiana brought out a small gift and an envelope.

“I had written a letter too, but hadn’t sent it yet. Could I ask you to deliver it on your next visit?”

“Miss Angela will be thrilled. I’ll be on my way then.”

As the doctor packed his bag and left the room, Georgiana prepared to follow.

“Where are you going?” Locke stopped her.

“Didn’t you say the water barrels are arriving this afternoon? We need to decide where to place them and check the grounds…”

“What about me? When will you check on me?”

Georgiana frowned, thinking he was being clingy again, but when he held out the bandage, she realized what he meant and nodded.

“Why didn’t you ask the doctor to do it?”

“Why would I?”

“Why not?”

“I don’t like other people touching me. Not even the doctor.”

For someone who claimed that, he sure clung to me a lot…

As if reading her expression, Locke scratched his nose and added, “Except for Georgiana, of course.”

“Who said you could make me the exception?”

Flustered, she snapped at him. Locke, looking like a scolded puppy, brought the bandage to his mouth.

“Then I’ll do it myself. I’ve always done it alone, even on the battlefield.”

Only then did she notice all the scars covering his torso.

There were several large ones on his back too. The thought of him stubbornly applying ointment alone made her chest ache.

“Give it here.”

Taking the bandage from him, Georgiana gently dabbed the medicated area and wrapped it tightly.

Her long hair brushed against his abdomen as she leaned in. A breeze wafted in through the window, mingling their scents.

Her earlobes turned red as she scolded softly, “Stop getting hurt.”

“Is that concern I hear?”

“No. You’re just a pain to deal with.”

“For a pain, you’re being awfully gentle.”

At his teasing, she tied the ribbon tightly.

“Ack!”

As Locke exaggerated his pain, Georgiana stood to leave—but he suddenly pulled her into his lap.

His shoulder, which she had just touched, was even warmer now.

“W-what are you doing?”

Caught in his arms, she struggled, but a quiet whisper came above her head.

“This feels like a dream. Being in the same house with you, being able to see you like this—I can hardly believe it.”

“……”

“Even though I keep wanting more, I’ll hold back. I’ll stay by your side until you’re free from every nightmare.”

His lips brushed the crown of her head.

The morning’s nightmare.

The lingering image of Willow chasing her.

All of it faded with Locke’s tender confession.