Repaying Regan Jones

It wasn't until Regan arrived at the Harbour of Port Charleston that she started regretting being born to her father. The old man went by the name Edward Jones, and his sense of responsibility was as sharp as a rounded pebble.

Ever since her mother died, he had developed a bad habit of gambling. Slowly but surely, he lost almost all of his wealth in just five years. From living on their eighty-eight-acre farm, they moved to a rented room in the town's shabby inn, “The Restplace.” Regan's life was anything but smooth.

Her mother passed away on Regan's thirteenth birthday. Dark as things were, Regan vowed to live a life her mother would have wished for her, but reality has a way of dealing with you in the harshest way possible. Edward Jones started gambling just weeks after the funeral, leading Regan to believe her father was just grieving.

She could understand his pain, however, that understanding started wearing out when debt collectors showed up at their door. One by one, their possessions were taken from the cows to the farm itself. Even the horse her mother left her wasn't spared, and to top it all off, her father was nowhere to be seen during the crisis.

Where he was, she didn't know, but she would soon find out when a man with a look of pure malice in his eyes showed up at her doorstep.

The knocking on the softwood of the inn room door was deafening in the silence. With how quiet it was, it was obvious the neighbours were now cranning their necks and sharpening their ears, hoping to catch a glimpse of the new drama the Jones had going on, something that happened quite frequently here.

Julian Wilson stood at the door, constantly knocking, his face a mask of pure impatience and irritation. If that old geezer Jones had lied to him, the consequences would be dire. But as the door opened, even Julian ,the proud son of Tony Abraham Wilson, Lord of Edinburgh,couldn't help but marvel at the sight before him.

The girl standing in front of him was the picture of a portrait taken in Heaven, a masterpiece showcasing God's creation skills, truly angelic.

That was all just a flicker of admiration, though, as his eyes went from astounded to completely cold within the next second, a flash of deep-seated malice coursing through them.

Regan almost crushed the door frame with her nails when she saw the look in the eyes of the stranger in front of her. He had blonde hair, hazel eyes, and a calm yet blood-curdling presence. For two minutes straight, they just stared at each other, with Regan growing more speechless by the minute, while the gentleman's presence sent the room temperature plummeting twenty degrees.

Only when Regan started stammering a greeting did the gentleman speak up, his words sinking in like knives all over her body.

“Morning, Lady Regan. Your father lost a bet with me, and since he cannot pay, I will take you as collateral. We leave for the harbour to Edinburgh in two days. Goodbye!”

And with that he left, leaving a bewildered Regan standing at the doorway.

Regan couldn't stomach what she had heard. Collateral? Her father had finally lost all moral bindings and sold her for money. The thought brought tears to her eyes. She loved her father, and she had been closer to him than to her own mother during the time she was alive.

As she stiffly walked to the bathroom, tears still falling, the door opened. At the entrance stood a man she barely recognized. His expensive clothes were gone, replaced by what barely counted as decent clothing. He looked ragged, like he had been through a storm on the way there.

Once upon a time, Regan would have rushed to his side, her heart sinking at the sight of his ragged appearance, but right now, she felt a crushing disappointment and resentment towards him.

“Regan baby listen to me,” said Edward Jones, striding in with open arms like he hadn't just sold his own daughter to a rich, cruel man. Regan couldn't stand him. His presence almost made her feel repulsed, causing her to take a few steps back, putting some distance between them like a lost child protecting themselves from an abusive relative.

When Regan took a step back Edward froze. The look in her eyes made his heart churn; she looked so scared and disgusted of him that he held his breath as his outstretched arms slowly fell to his side. He couldn't keep his head up,wherever his wife was, she was ashamed of him no doubt.That night he had stacked the last money he had on poker.

What money was that exactly? He had nothing to his name and, disillusioned by ego, he had thought he could lie and at the end he would win so it wouldn't matter.

He just hadn't expected young master Julian Wilson to be there that day.

The lad was powerful, cruel, reckless yet sophisticated. And yes, his gambling skills or luck were supernatural. He never lost a bet.

As expected, Edward Jones had lost. He had tried to escape but the Wilson bodyguards had swarmed him, trapping him in place. He couldn't pay, couldn't run. At that time he thought of his dead wife and his poor innocent daughter he hadn't seen in days.

Julian Wilson, calculated as he was, had already spotted Edward at the table. He knew everything about him and just as he guessed, the old man was trying to trick him. He couldn't stand that. As soon as he lost, just as Julian expected, the old man made a run for the door. No one was allowed to mess with the Wilson family; this Julian had stressed all his life, dealing with every smarmy little creep in the worst way if they did.

He had heard the old man had a daughter and right now he needed a maid who would accompany him everywhere he went. His eyes crinkled with a dangerous glint as he relayed the deal to the old man, an unfriendly expression on his face as Old Jones agreed without hesitation.

Two days.

The stranger had given her only two days to process her father's betrayal. All that, though, took a backseat as she stared at the man in front of her who was desperately trying to explain, waving his hands in the air frantically. She couldn't listen to what he had to say.

She didn't want to.

Within a minute she bolted out the door and ran towards the crowded streets of Port Charleston, tears still trickling down her cheeks. Edward Jones could only watch as his daughter fled his presence, feeling ever the more disgusted with himself.

This time he didn't leave.

He would wait here for Regan and by all means never gamble again in his entire life.

Regan ran so fast her feet started to hurt. Her vision was blurry and her eyes stung from crying too much. It was only after a while that she realized she was no longer in the town's business centre but somewhere near the pond where her mother used to take her every Sunday afternoon for a walk. Subconsciously she had been seeking a place of comfort, a place where only her and her mother used to frequent, away from her despicable father.

Something, however, wasn't quite right this time. A group of men, seemingly with bad intentions, lingered near the pond today and after catching sight of a beauty like Regan, the lust in their eyes couldn't be covered up even by a veil. It didn't take long for them to approach her and start teasing her.

“Don't cry mademoiselle,” said one of the scumbags in a teasing tone. “Let ol' James here take care of you.” Regan refused, but obviously the teasing didn't stop.

She made an attempt to stomp away, however, that just escalated things. They went from teasing to grabbing at her clothes, attempting to satisfy their deprived desires. She ran. Regan, fair-skinned redhead she was, could outrun a deer if the circumstances willed it.

Genetics, however, kicked in and the men soon caught up to her and cornered her in an alley behind a jewelry shop. The store's customers were wealthy people and they couldn't be bothered with such “low-class behaviour,” and onlookers passing by, seeing that the upper-classmen didn't intervene, either turned a blind eye or just watched from the sidelines.

Her chastity was the only thing she had left and giving it up was not an option.

Her attempts to thwart the thugs, however, didn't seem to work as they outnumbered her in numbers and basic strength. She resigned herself to her fate, the colour draining from her face and life seeping out of her body bit by bit as they made their advances.

Then, at the moment they made for her briefs, a cold distant voice bellowed from behind them. Right there at the entrance of the alley stood a man,dark hair, dark eyes, and an even darker presence. While it wasn't as blood-curdling as the stranger who appeared at her doorstep that morning, it was intense, with a certain air of domineering behind it.

“Step away and I will let you live,” said the man, his tone condescending and life-threatening in every way possible.