The Return Of The Prodigal
He sat in the garden because that’s where Lisette had put him, and Rian Becket had already learned that arguing with the strong-willed, determined Lisette was as equally productive as attempting to joust with the moon. And as fruitless as wishing his left arm back.
Strange, though, how he seemed to simply do whatever Lisette wanted him to do, almost without question.
Perhaps it was because she reminded him somewhat of his sister Fanny. That same sort of tall, lithe body. That same shimmer of blond hair, although Lisette’s was devoid of curl, more of a silky curtain that fell past her shoulders than the unruly mass Fanny was forever cursing. More sunlight to Fanny’s moonlight.
And most definitely that same unshakable belief that they were completely in charge of him.
Fanny had always believed herself his keeper, had always attempted to order him about, nag at him.
Lisette was her equal, if not even more unwavering in her belief that she had been put on this earth to tell him what to do, and he had been placed on that same earth to obey her.
That might be the reason.
That, or the fact that he truthfully couldn’t muster mu ... read full excerpt from: The Return of the Prodigal ebook
