Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 83384 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83384 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
“Y’alright?” he asks from behind me.
“Aye. Just a bad dream.”
He holds me tighter, and I finally drift back to sleep. I almost wish he wasn’t like this, that he wouldn’t hold me and do things like defend my honor. It’s hard to hate someone who treats you with momentary kindness. But hell, if I’m to be married to this man, I might as well make the most of it.
I wake the next morning to the sound of running water in the bathroom. I open my eyes, and look about the room, and feel a bit lighter this time. Seems I slept off some of the heaviness of the night before.
He was mean yesterday. Hell, he was even cruel at times. Then he dragged himself out to punish my brother on my behalf… to avenge me, like the knights of old. And maybe somehow, as I slept, my subconscious worked that one out.
I look about the large room, past the massive bed. The walls are bare save one small framed print near the closet, but I can’t see what it says. I yawn widely. Looks like it might be the knot tattooed on Cormac’s arm, or some seal or something.
There’s a table and chairs, but the furniture in here is otherwise sparse. Still, it’s dust-free and clean, and I can see faint trail marks in the carpet that indicate someone took a Hoover to it the day before. The fragrance of the flowers still permeates the air. I take in a deep breath, then let it out again.
I wonder how much freedom my new husband will give me. Just outside this window, I can see the edge of a beautiful garden in front of the house. Around the bend is the front of the house, with the stunning trellis and greenery, the blooming flowers, and roughly-hewn bench.
Will he let me roam these grounds? Will he let me go to the kitchen, or to the library? Will I be allowed the freedom to shop? To have a job? I look around the room, wondering where my phone is. Will I be allowed to call my friends? To see them again?
Thankfully, he opens the door and steps into the room. I want to ask him these questions.
“Will I be given any freedom?”
I look straight in his eyes when I ask the question, then realize he’s wearing a towel slung around his waist, and Mother of God, even though he angers me, the man’s a walking god.
“Well, good morning to you, too,” he says, walking over to the chest of drawers nearest the bathroom.
“Good morning,” I say impatiently, waving aside his greeting. “I have questions, Cormac.”
His back’s to me now, as he takes folded clothing out of his drawers, and my, what a back it is. Broad. Muscled. Dotted with tats in intricate swirls, knots, and tribal markings. I bet they have meanings. I long to know them.
“And lucky for you, lass, I have answers. Now, you want to know how much freedom you’ll have?”
He lets his towel drop to the floor and I get a full view of his magnificent arse. I stop lamenting the fact that my husband’s so built. Being married to an arsehole who let his body go to seed would be infinitely worse.
“The answer is, you’ll have some freedom, but you’re under my protection now. So you won’t be allowed to do things that will endanger you.”
My heart sinks. “Like what?” I’m aware my voice sounds like a petulant child’s.
“Shopping, for instance. I’ll allow it, in moderation, and money isn’t the concern. You’ll be given a credit card, cash, whatever it is you need. But you won’t be traipsing around the shops with your mates, and putting yourself in harm’s way.”
I frown. “Then how will I shop?”
“I’ll clear the stores and give you leave or go with you myself.” He grimaces, as if the very thought is painful.
I blink. “You’ll… clear the stores?”
“If I can’t go myself, aye.”
He turns to face me as he yanks a clean white t-shirt over his chest. For the first time, I notice he’s got a cut across his chin and nose, and a bruise on his cheek.
“You’re hurt! Did my brother hit you?”
He looks puzzled at first, then raises a hand to his cheek, as if just remembering the cuts and bruises. “Ah. He did, before I throttled him.”
“I’d have paid to see that,” I muse. And I would have. Watching my brother get his arse kicked by Cormac would’ve been worth it. “Now back to the shops. What were you saying?”
“We’ll set it up ahead of time. You’ll have the shops to yourself, and you’ll have either me with you or my men.”
Is he that much more powerful than my father that he’ll give me a private shopping day? It’s hard to imagine.