Chapter 19

Aiden swung down from his horse, let it be led away, and walked slowly toward the house. There was nowhere he needed to hurry. He no longer knew how many days he had been out of his wife’s favor. Each time he returned, she was there. Beautiful, delicate, noble. And distant. Every look at her hurt. She was right there under his nose, within reach, yet forbidden. He had tried that once too. He had told her to undress. She had started to do it after a brief hesitation. But she had not looked at him with that devoted gaze that always sent his arousal soaring. She had been only obedient, accepting her marital duties. In her eyes there was no yielding, no longing. Only coldness and distaste. He lasted until around the third or fourth undone button before stopping her.

He could have taken her. But hell would freeze before he took her when she did not truly want him. And now she did not. He did not know why. He had stopped begging. It was useless. Something had wounded her deeply. He had no idea what. He had replayed it a thousand times. What could have happened between how happy she had been in the forest and how she had flinched when he tried to embrace her at night? He found no answer. And she would not give one. Still, he was not willing to spend more time without her than work required. He would not give her space to drift away completely. He would rather look every day at the treasure he had lost. Because he believed it was only for a time. One day she would do something. Make a mistake in that distance of hers. And he would be there. And he would take back what was his.

“The lock on milady’s bedchamber has been repaired. The key is in the door,” a young helper announced as he passed him.

“Mhm,” Aiden murmured absentmindedly. Then the words reached him a few seconds later. He turned sharply.

“Wait. What?”

“Milady wished for the lock on the ladies’ bedchamber to be fixed so it could be locked. It is done.”

Cold ran through Aiden’s body. A deep, suffocating unease. Like the air before a storm. He turned at once and hurried inside. He took the stairs two at a time and was still on them when he saw his wife in the long corridor, some clothes in her arms. Coming from his bedchamber toward the ladies’ bedchamber he had never allowed her to use. Not even on the very first day, when she had trembled from his gaze alone.

“Tess?”

She startled and looked back at him.

“Um, I did not expect you so soon,” she said nervously.

Well, now this is the first sentence in a long time that I believe.

“What are you doing here?” he asked aloud.

He knew at once this would end in a quarrel.

“I am moving into my own bedchamber,” she replied as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Yes. Here it begins. That tone stirred his anger.

“I neither ordered nor permitted that.”

She turned to him, her voice unusually bold.

“I am your wife, not your prisoner. Am I? Your words.”