Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 109722 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 549(@200wpm)___ 439(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109722 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 549(@200wpm)___ 439(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
“It hasn’t been an easy reunion,” she said before he could say any more. “We both have changed.”
But what of their love. Had it changed as well, he wondered.
A knock at the door had Bethany entering with a platter of meat, cheese, and bread. She placed it on the chest beside Oria and went to the table and filled two tankards with wine, handing one to Royden and the other to Oria, then she left without a word.
“Tell me about Burnell and your marriage. I’d like to know,” Royden said and handed a piece of cheese to his wife. She was in need of food and he intended to see she got it.
Oria took it, though made no effort to eat it. She held it in her hand and she seemed to drift away in thought for a moment.
He didn’t think she noticed that she sighed heavily before speaking.
“Burnell treated me well. He was tender and mannerly and soft-spoken. He never lost his temper or raised a hand to me.” She ran her fingers over the scar along her jaw. “Burnell had Letha, Clan Learmonth’s healer, tend my wound. She did the best she could.” Her hand hastily fell away from her face as if she wanted no more memories of that time. “Burnell gave me something I thought I had but until I got it, I never realized I didn’t have it in the first place.”
“What is that?” he asked, thinking he had always given her what she asked of him.
“Freedom,” she said softly and with a smile of a cherished gift she had appreciated. “I could come and go as I pleased.”
“That could be dangerous,” Royden said, the thought of her going off completely on her own a frightening one.
She swallowed the bite of cheese she had taken and sipped a bit of wine before responding. “I found it exhilarating, not having to seek permission for almost everything I did.”
The thought of her going off on her own as she had done when she had gone into the woods would not work with him. He would worry endlessly not knowing where she was, what danger she may be in.
“I will not have my wife going off as she pleases,” he said and could hear the command in his voice. It was a necessity for a time and though now not always needed, it was a habit not easy to break.
“I’m not your wife—yet,” Oria said.
Her tongue had never been quick or defiant with him. That had changed. She was right. She wasn’t truly considered his wife until their marriage was consummated.
“It’s not a tender, mannerly husband who will be in your bed this time,” Royden warned. “Are you prepared for that?”
There was a time that ‘aye’ would have spilled from her lips without hesitation. But that would have been to a man she had known well and loved with all her heart. That man was gone replaced by a man she no longer knew, though she still loved even though he was now a stranger to her. She had sought seclusion these last three days, the incident in the woods forcing her to think on all that had happened since his return. He was a man filled with anger and also blame. And she couldn’t help but think that he blamed her for marrying Burnell. Much needed to be settled between them, only then would their marriage—their future—have a chance at succeeding.
“Your hesitation answers for you,” Royden said with annoyance.
“Let me explain.”
“What is there to explain? You either welcome me in your bed or you don’t,” he snapped.
“I suppose it is that simple,” she said with a sadness that tugged at her heart.
“Then I’ll have an answer,” Royden demanded.
This time Oria didn’t hesitate, even though it hurt her to say, “I’m not ready to welcome you to my bed yet.”
Royden lashed out in anger, raising his arm that had no hand. “Can’t stand the thought of a stump caressing your naked flesh?”
If only he could feel the tingle of excitement and anticipation that raced through her at the thought of his touch, whether it was his hand or his stump, it didn’t matter. She’d never stopped aching for his touch. Or dreaming. Good Lord, the dreams of him touching her had driven her mad with desire.
“I have no aversion to your stump, Royden,” she said softly.
She spoke as she once did, with a gentleness that also reminded him of her honesty. Was it possible? Was the loss of his hand not repugnant to her?
“How did you lose your hand?” she asked.
Neither knew what had happened to the other, what things had forged new strengths and what things had depleted them, and what had changed them, during the five years that had separated them. Oria wanted to know, but she also knew how difficult it would be to share those things.