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)
A rap at the door had him turning and calling out, “Enter, wife.”
Esme entered the room. She kept her hands linked tightly in front of her to keep them from trembling.
“Sit,” he ordered, his glance directing her to the table in the middle of the room with benches on either side.
She hurried and took a seat, grateful to hide her trembling hands beneath the table.
Torrance walked slowly around the room to come to a stop behind her. He leaned down, his face close to hers, his arm brushing her shoulder as he rested one hand on the table.
Esme could feel his warm breath on her cheek, and she silently warned herself to remain strong.
“Did you miss me, wife,” Torrance whispered in her ear.
She couldn’t stop the shiver that ran through her, and she quickly said, “Aye, my lord.”
“Do you tremble with passion for me, wife?”
“Of course, my lord,” she said, and her stomach turned at the lie.
“Then why are you not with child?” he demanded and pounded his fist on the table.
Esme’s whole body cringed. “I don’t know what I do wrong, my lord.”
Her body remained tense even though he left her side and walked around the table to sit opposite her. She knew he wasn’t finished with her, and she waited anxiously for what would come next.
“It is not a difficult task to lie there and submit to your husband,” he reprimanded.
Esme didn’t know how to respond to him. Did he forget what happened each time she had done just that?
He pounded the table again. “Answer me, wife?”
She swallowed back her fear and did her best to place the blame on herself. “I don’t know what more to do, my lord. I am ignorant of the intimate ways between a husband and wife.”
His puzzled look baffled her, and he appeared ready to speak then stopped for a moment.
“You will come to my bed prepared to get with child when I summon you,” he ordered.
“Aye, my lord,” she said fear curling in her stomach of when that time would come.
“Fetch a cloak,” he snapped. “You will be accompanying me through the village this morning.”
“Aye, my lord.”
“Hurry!” he ordered when she didn’t move.
In her rush to leave him, she stumbled, though righted herself.
“Good, Lord, woman, don’t tell me I have a clumsy wife,” he called out. “Watch how you walk.”
“Aye, my lord,” she said, wishing she never had to say those words again yet facing years ahead with those words spilling endlessly from her lips.
“You will not leave my side,” Torrance ordered, after stepping outside, a cold wind circling them.
Esme nodded. “As you say, my lord.” Another never-ending response.
Torrance took her hand to walk down the stairs, startling her. He would grab her by the arm often enough, but never had he taken her hand in his.
“What’s wrong?” he demanded.
“The cold, my lord,” she lied.
He let go of her hand to grip the edge of her cloak. “Go and have a servant fetch your fur-lined cloak now. I will wait here for you.”
She nodded and hurried into the keep and spotting Gwen, the one servant who didn’t fear to speak to her, asked, “Gwen, please fetch my fur-lined cloak.”
“Aye, my lady,” she said and hurried off.
Esme shook her head. Something didn’t seem right. Her husband had never cared if she was cold. He would tell her it was her own fault for not dressing properly and leave her to suffer a chill. And taking her hand? She could not get over that he held her hand and that he had not done so roughly. He had closed his hand around hers, as if with care, and held it firmly.
Gwen returned and Esme slipped off her cloak and replaced it with the fur-lined one, then rushed off not wanting to keep Torrance waiting.
He stood where she had left him, his head turning as he took stock of his surroundings.
“It took you long enough,” he said when she reached his side.
“My apologies, my lord,” she said, more words she often said to him.
He took her hand again and she wished she could enjoy the feel of its warmth and strength, but she didn’t. His touch caused her skin to prickle with fear since she had felt pain from that same hand when it struck her. But what possibly could cause him to hold her hand now when he never did before?
The village path, still soft from the morning's rain, clung to Esme’s boots as she matched steps beside Lord Torrance. The villagers bowed as they passed, a forest of bent heads, a hush of held breath. No one wished to draw the lord’s gaze.
They continued walking in silence, Torrance casting a wide glance around as if he listened, intending to catch any chatter or whispers being said. The whole time he never let go of her hand and Esme saw people’s eyes going wide at the unusual sight.