Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 99593 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 498(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99593 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 498(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
Though one problem haunted him. He turned and looked at the bed. What would he do with her? It was a question that troubled him, and he worried she would present the biggest problem to his plan.
Time.
He would give it time. He stretched himself out of the chair and walked over to the bed. His wife hugged the far edge of it and that was fine with him. She was better off there. He didn’t want her anywhere near him.
He got into bed and kept to his side, grateful for the large bed and closed his eyes prepared to be gone from the bed before his wife woke in the morning. The thought remained utmost in his mind as he fell asleep.
A sweet scent tickled his nose as Torrance woke, and he felt a pleasant warmth cradled against him. His arm closed around it drawing it closer to him and he ran his hand along it, enjoying the curving shape and soft feel—his eyes shot open.
His wife was cuddled against him, and she was awake, her eyes wide with shock and… fear.
He glared at her. “Go to your bedchamber and get dressed. Now!”
Esme scrambled out of bed, missing the footstool and falling hard on her bottom.
Torrance leaned over the bed and continued to glare at her. “You are the clumsiest woman I have ever known.”
“Aye, my lord,” Esme said and hurried to her feet with a wince and rushed to the door.
“Did you hurt yourself?” he yelled.
She didn’t stop. She yanked open the door and as she flew out of the room, she called out, “Nay, my lord.” And she wondered why he bothered to ask when he didn’t care a bit for her.
“Meet me in the Great Hall,” he yelled.
She raised her voice once again before reaching the stairs. “Aye, my lord.”
Once in her bedchamber, she took a much-needed breath. She was still stunned that she woke to find herself cuddled against her husband, his arm around her, and his hand exploring along her back and down over her backside. What shocked her even more was that as she woke, before her eyes opened, she felt a strange pleasure she wished to linger in. Only for it to turn to fear, when she discovered her husband was the cause of it.
How had she felt pleasure in his arms? She shuddered at the terrible thought. Never. Not ever could she enjoy the touch of such a cruel man. But she had and it upset her.
She was grateful when Gwen arrived and helped her dress and plait her hair. She barely said a word to Gwen, and Esme guessed at what Gwen assumed and that upset her. She would spread the news that his lordship had done his duty last night and time would tell if his seed had taken root.
But no seed could root if it hadn’t been planted.
However, there was tonight and all the nights to follow. It would be so much easier if they coupled, and she got with child. Then he would leave her alone. A blessing for sure. After waking in his arms this morning, she believed there was a good chance that that might happen soon.
Once finished, Esme made her way to the Great Hall to find her husband already sitting at the dais, enjoying the morning meal.
“You took long enough,” Torrance snapped, then returned to his conversation with Brack who was sitting next to him.
She sat and ate, not much, but enough that her husband wouldn’t complain, though he wouldn’t know if she did or didn’t since he paid her little attention.
Tables were soon being cleared away as the few warriors who had taken their meal in the Great Hall departed. Surprisingly, the long wooden tables were once again set with food and drink.
Esme turned to her husband and quickly drew back, surprised that his face lingered so close to hers.
“You will remain by my side while clan members voice their grievances,” he ordered.
Esme nodded. “As you say, my lord.”
The Great Hall soon brimmed with murmurs and the occasional cough as clan members filtered in, uncertain what to expect. It had been some time since Lord Torrance, feared for his unforgiving judgments, had opened the hall for grievances. Curious glances passed between the people as they eyed the long wooden tables set with bread, cheese, meats, and clay jugs of ale, an oddity in itself. But they dared not touch the food or drink unless permitted to do so.
All eyes focused on the center of the dais where Lord Torrance sat rigid, regal, and unbending. Brack stood to his side.
Esme remained seated beside him and kept her hands folded tightly in her lap, uncertain what she would witness here today, fairness or cruelty.
The first to approach was an elderly man with a limp, clutching his cap in trembling hands. “M’lord, it’s me root cellar. Neil’s goats broke in again. Ate half the stores I’d put by for winter.”