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Why should he follow his unhappy wife when his mistress is always there, always happy?
"Once I am with child, I would ask you to allow me to remove to another of your estates."
What I see in his is frightening in its intensity, its fury.
"My wife will not live away from me. Ever. Do not bring this up again."
"Being with you brings me nothing but misery."
"You lie. You found great pleasure last night. And every night I come to your bed since we have been married."
Those tears spill over again, both my bitterness and heartbreak pouring out.
I think, in that moment, I actually hate him.
"And that is the problem. I am not the only one you find pleasure with. "
All is good...until I meet the woman who shares his bed.
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"You spend much time out here, I'm told."
My body stiffens as the one voice I'm trying to escape invades my senses. The garden has become one of my refuges and after three months, I thought I was safe out here, safe from his presence and hers. Heaven knows, I've watered just about every plant out here with my tears. The flowers can attest to my misery, but no one else can.
Except now, if he looks at my face, he'll see that I'm crying.
Would he care?
Making a move as if I'm wiping sweat from my face, I attempt to remove the evidence of my pain.
"My lady wife, do you ignore me?"
Still keeping my back to him, I shrug and continue pulling the weeds. "I wasn't aware that an observation made by you required a response."
"I've wondered where you disappear to."
Not enough to find out the answer.
That's the wrong thing to think since it causes more tears to slide down my face. Before I can wipe them away, his hand grasps my arm, pulling me up to face him. I don't look at him, but I can feel the intensity of his gaze as he studies my face.
Humiliation complete.
"Why do you cry?"
His rough voice is honestly baffled, as if he cannot understand how someone in my situation could have any sorrow.
"Wife, look at me."
That word. That word I used to love and now despise. More tears well up in my eyes, but I force myself to meet his gaze.
"Tell me what causes these tears. You have been different since I brought you here after we wedded."
He wants an answer, so I give him the absolute truth. After all these months of holding it in, I wrap up everything in one short sentence.
"I do not like being married to you."
He wasn't expecting that answer and I can feel his whole body lock tight and his hand flexes on my arm.
"What is not to your liking?"
That almost makes me laugh, his voice is positively confused, as if I have everything a woman could want so how could I possibly be upset?
Shaking my head, I answer softly, "It matters not."
"It matters. I would not have my wife cry." Heavens! That deep voice of his, so rough yet so gentle, as it was when we had our glorious month together before our wedding. Back when I was hopeful for our future, when I looked forward to marrying this magnificent warrior and being his wife in every way. Back when I thought he cared for me, when I thought the look in his eyes was full of, if not love, then caring.
Back before he shattered all my ideals and dreams.
"Once I am with child, I would ask you to allow me to remove to another of your estates."
"Ah," he says as if understanding is dawning. "You do not like Bellford Keep. That is fine. There are others we can go to."
Typical man. Problem solved. Completely missing the actual point.
Looking at the ground, I shake my head. "You misunderstand me. I wish to go to another estate alone. Without you."
Again, his body locks solid.
"I would have your eyes for what I say next, wife." Grudgingly, I meet his eyes. And what I see in his is frightening in its intensity, its fury. "My wife will not live away from me. Ever. Do not bring this up again."
"Being with you brings me nothing but misery."
He looks as if I've slapped him his shock is so great at my audacity.
Then a cold anger slips over his features. "That is unfortunate since we are wed."
"Leave me," I dismiss him, not thinking.
Clearly the wrong thing to say as he leans down so his face is only inches from mine. "You do not command, wife. You would do well to remember your place."
"I assure you, I am never able to forget my place here."
Those tears spill over again, both my bitterness and heartbreak pouring out. What is wrong with me?
"You must learn to be happy in your situation. Any other woman would be happy to be my bride."
"Well then you should have married one of them. I find no pleasure in being your wife."
He grins at me.
Actually grins.
"You lie. You found great pleasure last night. And every night I come to your bed since we have been married."
I think, in that moment, I actually hate him.
"And that is the problem. I am not the only one you find pleasure with. So whatever pleasure you may give to me, believe me when I say it is only physical and only temporary. My heart and my mind remain unswayed by you and wish to be far away from you because the pain you inflict is so much greater than the fleeting pleasure."
Since I can't force the warrior to leave, I spin around and storm off to the stables.
He doesn't follow.
Why should he follow his unhappy wife when his mistress is always there, always happy?
---
I head into the stables, waving off Braden, the stablemaster. I need no help, nor do I want it, from this man or any man. In minutes, I'm leading my stallion, Sir Neigh, out of the barn and I quickly mount up. Here is the one male I enjoy wholeheartedly; he has never broken my heart or sought out another. I was present at his birth six years ago, a beautiful chestnut, wobbly-legged foal, and I raised him. My father gave him to me and no one else has ever seated him. The fact that he is mine and mine alone comforts me. At least I do not have to share him.
Braden yells after me when he sees me take off, no guard in sight. He thought I'd come to groom my boy, not go riding. He is used to me riding only in the mornings, never in the late afternoon near the evening meal.
However, I plan on missing the meal tonight and all nights going forward so I do not have to watch her watching my husband in the common room any longer.
It hurts. It hurts me so badly. I always wonder if my parents knew, when they married me off to the warrior, that his peoples' tradition included the males keeping and flaunting their mistresses. Knowing my parents, and the great love between the two of them, and just the two of them, I cannot imagine they did or they would not have given me over to him.
When I am out of sight of the stables, I decide on a different course and change direction, urging Sir into a gallop, leaning low over his neck, letting him have his head. We fly over to the river, where I slow him down and allow him to walk in the shallows of the water for several miles. He's always enjoyed that and the sound of the water soothes me.
As he picks his way through the river, I pour out my woes to him, my words bleeding out of my mouth and into his twitching ears. Everything comes out, the pain, the humiliation, the anger, the sorrow, the hopelessness, the utter devastation. I can't return to my parents' home because my father would return me not out of malice but because a wife belongs with her husband. He would give me sanctuary if I had been physically mistreated, but since I am not, he has no reason to protect me.
I sigh as I realize I have no choice but to continue to live here, my heart dying a little more every day as I sleep alone in my bed, the warrior not alone in his. He is with her. My only hope is that someday he will allow me to live away from him at one of his other estates. Since he doesn't seem to care about family, maybe once he has his heir, he will let us go.
Defeat is hard for me to accept, and as soon as I think that thought, my anger at myself grows. Who says I have to accept my lot? What if I were to run away? I had some money my mother slipped into my trunk before we left.
"A woman should always have her own money," she'd whispered and I'd nodded my understanding. "Unpack it when you get home and hide it well in case there is ever need for it."
She was assuming in case we were ever overrun with raiders, I could use it to ransom my husband if he were ever taken.
I also had jewelry I could sell.
Thinking back to the first – and only – time he had given jewelry to me, I frown. It was the day we had arrived at Bellford and I discovered...her.
A servant had summoned me to his library and the warrior waited in there for me, holding a velvet bag in his hand.
I'd walked into the room, keeping my eyes to the floor, even after I heard the servant bow out and close the door.
"I have made arrangements for Mrs. Kelly to give you a tour of the estate and to go over household matters with you. Bellford Keep has been without a mistress since the old lord and lady died."
I continued to stare at the ground and I did not acknowledge that I heard him. His boots came into my view after a few moments of silence.
"Are you well, my lady wife?"
Just a short nod from me as answer.
His fingers nudged my chin up, but I still managed to keep my eyes downcast. "What is wrong that you will neither speak to me nor look me in the eye?"
"May I leave?" I asked.
Sensing his irritation, I was not surprised that his answer was swift. "No, you may not. I would like to know the cause of your distress and I have a surprise for you."
That got him my eyes, but they were enraged. "I never want another surprise from you ever again."
"This one you will like," he assured me, and spilled the contents of the velvet bag into his hand. It was a beautiful diamond and emerald necklace.
Pushing his hand away, I snapped. "I want nothing from you. Give it to her, give all of your gifts to her. But do not ever attempt to give me a gift, ever again. You have nothing I want."
Then I left him in his library, holding the jewelry I rejected.
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