by Shay Savage
“Thank you, my wife”—Branford glanced first at the cart full of hunting dogs and then to my lips—“for everything.”
And that is how I knew our marriage just might work.
Chapter 4—Increasingly Establish
“Do you remember anything of your parents?” Branford asked.
“Not really,” I said. We were walking back from the marketplace to our rooms. The sun was high in the sky, and Branford claimed to be famished. “I was too young when they died to remember them. I only know my father died before my mother and that their surname was Fay.”
Branford opened the door to the morning room, and we walked inside. There were already several dishes containing stew, fruits, and breads arranged on the table inside. Dunstan, who had been following discreetly behind us, stopped at the doorway and took his place outside the rooms. Branford glared at him but said nothing as he slammed the door with the guard on the other side of it.
“I’ve never heard the name before,” Branford said. “My father knew a few families from the Village of the Eagle, but I don’t recall that one. Camden spent some time there. It reminds me, though—your things from Hadebrand arrived yesterday. I’ll tell Dunstan to have someone retrieve them for you. It will give him something to do other than hover around the damn door.”
“My things?” I repeated, trying to ignore his slight outburst. I had honestly been afraid he might decide to remove Dunstan by force as we had walked around the marketplace.
“Yes, a few articles of clothing, a comb, and a bowl I believe you wanted.”
“Oh! The bowl!” I exclaimed. I had all but forgotten it. Truly, I didn’t think he would actually have it retrieved. In my happiness, I turned and reached up to wrap my arms around his neck. “Thank you so much, Branford.”
“You are very welcome.” He chuckled and rested his hands on my hips. “If this is your normal reaction, I may have to start bringing gifts to you on a daily basis.”
I blushed, of course, and dropped my arms from him immediately, surprised by my own reaction. I turned from him and walked to the fire to add more wood.
“I don’t think that’s necessary,” I said.
“What if I just want to?” Branford asked. He came up behind me, turned me around, and touched his fingertip to the end of my chin, but I couldn’t look into his eyes.
“There’s nothing I need,” I said softly. The idea of Branford bringing me gifts was unsettling, to say the least. Besides, there was already more in this room than I could ever want or need.
“But what do you want?”
“Nothing, my…Branford.”
“Nothing at all?” he asked. “I have the means, you know. I can get you anything you desire. Clothing, jewelry, exotics foods…anything.”
“Really, there is nothing.”
“There is nothing you desire?” he asked, disbelief apparent in his tone. “Nothing?”
“I don’t think so,” I replied quietly. I was beginning to wonder if I was giving the correct answer. Was I supposed to ask him for things? Princess Whitney certainly demanded gifts from those who would visit the castle from neighboring kingdoms, especially if the person in question was a potential suitor.
“Do you want me to kiss you again?”
The abruptness of his question caught me off guard, for it was not at all what I expected. I looked up into his eyes, and they were open and playful. His mouth was drawn up into that half smile as he darted out his tongue to wet his lower lip.
“All right,” I said. I felt the heat rise to my face as my eyes dropped to the ground.
“Look at me, Alexandra.” He leaned forward, his gaze on mine until his eyes closed, and his lips captured my mouth. He kissed me softly and then cupped my face. I felt his tongue brush across my lips, and I opened my mouth for him. I both felt and heard his words against my lips.
“Touch me.”
I placed my hands on his shoulders as I had done before, and he deepened the kiss. His tongue caressed mine, and one of his hands moved to the back of my neck while the other slid around my waist. He pulled me close against him and released me briefly before he changed the angle of his head and kissed me again and again. I could feel those strange, tingling sensations over my skin where his hands touched as well as other places around my body, and I found my hand slowly moving up and into his hair. I was surprised by how soft it felt as I easily slipped my fingers through it.
Branford groaned against my lips and pulled me tighter still. I could feel his body’s reaction to our closeness pressed up against my stomach. My heart began to pound in my chest, and he backed away just enough for his hand to move from my back, around my hip, and up to cup my breast. He lifted it slightly, and his thumb grazed over the nipple. I felt it harden as he touched it, and he continued to explore my mouth with his tongue.
“I want to see you,” Branford said as he broke away. He trained his eyes on mine and moved his hand from my breast to the ties at the front of my dress. He paused a moment, and I realized he was waiting for me to object to his desires. I nodded, stared up at him, and tried to keep my breathing in check as his fingers loosened the ribbons and pulled them from their loops. He glanced down as the laces opened, and my neck was further exposed. He tilted his head and kissed the edge of my jaw, then down my neck, and to the skin he had uncovered. He moved his lips over my collarbone as he used his fingers to further open my dress.
My grip on his hair tightened as he pushed the material off my shoulders and exposed the top half of my breasts to his eyes. He gazed down at them, and when I glanced down myself, I saw the top half of the circles around my nipples in plain view by virtue of the afternoon sunlight as it shone through the window. I bit into my lower lip, and I glanced back to his eyes, wondering what he may think of me. For a moment he was still, and then he looked into my eyes again.
“Am I…pleasing to you?” I asked. His eyes were dark, even with the bright sunshine cascading over us. I looked away quickly, sure he had found me lacking, until I heard his husky voice.
“Dazzling,” he finally said. He looked back down at me as adjectives flowed freely from his mouth. “Incredible. Beautiful and enticing. You are perfect, my wife.”
His breath was hot against my skin as he kissed languidly across the other collarbone, then back up toward the other side of my neck. I could feel his tongue tracing over my skin, and I felt his hands move up my sides. Branford brushed his fingers over my shoulder, and then he stopped abruptly and gasped.
“Did I do this to you?”
I flinched as his fingers touched the reddened area of my shoulder where it had hit the stone wall. I looked at Branford and saw his eyes closed and his jaw clenched.
“Will you ever be able to forgive me for this?” he asked.
“Of course, my lord.” My automatic response escaped from my lips.
He sighed, dropped his hands, and took a step back from me.
“When will you speak your mind to me?”
“I don’t understand.”
“That is obviously painful. I wish you would…I don’t know…yell at me or something. Tell me what an awful husband I have been so I can beg and promise to never do such a thing to you again.”
“Yell at you?” A humorless laugh escaped me. “No, I don’t think I could do that.”
“Why not?”
“You are…you are…” I stumbled over my words. Of all the things he wanted me to understand of his life, how could I explain this simple aspect of my own? “You are a prince, Branford. I would never be so disrespectful.”
“What if I deserve it?” He dropped down onto one of the chairs near the fire and stared at me. I reached for the edges of my opened dress and pulled the fabric back over my chest and shoulders, hiding my bare skin. I turned away from him and tried to get myself covered up again.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“I deserve your anger for this, Alexandra.”
“I’m not angry.”
�
�How could you not be?”
“One of my station does not become angry with someone like you,” I replied. “It was probably one of the first lessons I ever learned in life.”
“What do you mean?”
“When Princess Whitney and I were young, and she would do something to me out of anger…” I stopped because anything else I said would have been against her.
“Alexandra, why won’t you tell me?”
“Is it not obvious?”
“No, it is not!” He growled under his breath. “If it were obvious, I wouldn’t be asking you!”
“I cannot speak against a noble!” I cried. “Justified or not, we don’t do that.”
“We? Who is this ‘we’ you speak of?”
“Servants do not judge their masters,” I said quietly.
“Is that how you see me?”
“You are my husband,” I said, for I believed that to be all the explanation needed.
“And not your master.”
“But you are of noble blood,” I whispered.
“And you are no longer a servant.”
No longer a servant. I didn’t even understand the meaning of the words. Wasn’t I now just his servant instead of Whitney’s? Hadn’t he said as much to me on our wedding night? Granted, the role involved many other aspects, but when it came right down to it, I would now serve Branford as his wife. If I was not his servant, I didn’t know at all who I was or what I was supposed to do. At least as his servant, I had some inkling of how to behave.
“What am I?” I heard myself ask.
“You are my wife,” he stated simply, “unless you choose not to be.”
“I could not make that choice,” I said.
“Does that mean you will forgive me?”
“I already have,” I said.
“Because you have no choice but to accept me as I am?”
There were too many questions to answer, and I didn’t know what I was supposed to say. Since I didn’t know how I should answer, I found no words forthcoming at all. Obviously, I could not hold a grudge against him for his actions. It would serve no purpose.
“That is the reason, is it not?” he pressed. “You will endure anything and everything because you feel you have no choice in these matters.”
“I will try to be what you need me to be,” I said. My voice was shaking, and I could feel the beginning of tears in my eyes. My breaths were short, and my mouth had gone dry. I was failing him again. I didn’t have any idea what he wanted me to say, and it was obvious my answers were not correct. I pulled the laces of my dress tight and sat in the opposite chair. The warm air from the closeness of the fire contrasted with the cooling breeze coming from the window.
“Please, Alexandra. Please tell me what you are thinking. I need to know how you really feel and if you can even bear the sight of me after what I have done. I swear I will go mad if you don’t tell me something.”
How could I speak of the things Princess Whitney would say and do to me when she was angered? Even though he professed to hate her, I still could not speak against someone of her bloodline. He had to understand this, at least, for his kingdom also held servants who would not speak against the nobility of this court. I took a deep breath and tried to talk loud enough for him to hear me.
“All my life I have been taught to never question the actions of nobles. To do so would always mean severe punishment, and I have seen it cost some their lives. How could I even consider being angry with you over such a thing? Yes, it hurt, if that’s what you really want to hear, but it doesn’t matter. I am yours to do with as you please.”
“You should not think that way,” Branford said. “Yes, you are my wife, and therefore my property, but that doesn’t mean you cannot feel anger toward me.”
I felt the first of the tears drop from my lashes down my face. If one felt anger, one would eventually speak of it. It was safer not to feel.
“I can’t just…stop thinking this way, my…Branford,” I said. “I can’t even address you properly!”
“I like the way you address me,” he responded quietly. “I want you to speak your mind to me. You have every right to question my actions and my ability to be a good husband to you. I deserve it.”
Speak my mind? I felt the tension in my arms as I wrapped them around my torso. I had no idea what to think, so how could I explain my thoughts to him? And if I did, and they were not words he considered correct or—if I were extremely unlucky—words he considered traitorous, what would happen to me then? Both my tears and my words burst forth, and I found myself unable to contain them.
“How?” I exclaimed. “How am I supposed to discern between the questions that will not provoke your ire and those that will? How am I to know when my feelings are justified in your eyes and when they are not?”
I gasped because I knew I had overstepped my bounds. I closed my eyes and held my breath, waiting for the blow to come. Behind my lids, I hid in the darkness, silently remembering the blows of small fists and screams in my ears.
“I’m not going to hit you,” he said softly. There was no anger in his voice. “This is very difficult for you, isn’t it?”
I nodded, and Branford sighed.
“I’m sorry, my lord.”
“Stop that,” he said quickly. “You don’t need to apologize for my inability to teach. As my mother so aptly put it, this is on my shoulders.”
Branford sat back in the chair and ran his fingers through his hair. It ended up sticking out all over his head when he brought his hands down. It made him look much younger, like he did when he was sleeping.
“I don’t know how to teach you,” he admitted. “I’m not even sure where to begin, but I think I need to know how you really feel about me after what I did. Without that, I don’t even know where to start.”
I could feel panic begin to rise in my chest. He wanted to know how I felt about him when I myself wasn’t able to answer the question. I knew I needed him in many ways, but how did I feel about him? He was my husband. How was I supposed to feel? Did he expect me to love him?
“I want you to tell me something, my wife,” he said.
“Yes, Branford?” I waited for him to ask me how I felt, and I tried to formulate something in my head that would be enough to appease him but nothing deceitful and nothing that would provoke his anger. I never wished to have that directed toward me again.
“Tell me exactly what you were thinking when I held you against the wall.”
I froze.
“Your honest thoughts, Alexandra.”
This was not the question I had anticipated. This question had an answer, but again I didn’t know how it would be received. However, he had presented an exact inquiry, and I couldn’t refuse to respond.
“I didn’t know what you were going to do,” I finally answered. My voice was small, and I saw Branford lean forward in his chair to hear me. “I just wanted to tell you that I didn’t mean to…to…embarrass you. I should have known better, but I didn’t do it to hurt you. I thought you were going to kill me, and I wasn’t sure if you would do it here in our rooms or if you were going to take me to the executioner’s block.”
“Did you think you deserved to die for what you did?”
“I…I don’t know.”
“Are you loyal to me, Alexandra?”
“Of course, my lord!”
“So if I had killed you, believing you to be a traitor, would I have been wrong?”
“No, my lord.”
“What?” he said, clearly surprised by my answer though I didn’t understand how he could be. “Why not?”
“Because you will always be right,” I said. “You would have been protecting your family as best you could. I’m only a commoner—”
“You are not a commoner!” Branford bellowed as he stood abruptly and towered over me. I shrank back from his voice. “You are my wife, and there is nothing the least bit common about that! Dammit, Alexandra!”
I startled and tried to
muffle the automatic cry from my mouth as visions from the previous night enveloped me. I wrapped my shaking hands around my shoulders and waited with my head turned and my eyes closed.
“God in heaven,” Branford murmured before I heard him take a step to approach the chair where I sat. I heard the rustle of his clothing before I felt his hands on my knees. “I’m sorry. Alexandra, I didn’t mean to yell, but you…ugh.”
Sharp points jabbed my thighs, and when I opened my eyes, I saw Branford on his knees with his face in his hands and his elbows resting on my legs. He was shaking his head slowly and muttering. I couldn’t understand what he was saying until he finally released his head from his hands and looked back at me.
“How am I supposed to do this? How am I supposed to figure any of this out on my own? I don’t know what I’m doing! I don’t know how to do this without your help! Please, Alexandra. Please talk to me.”
“I don’t know what you want from me,” I whispered. “I want to be a good wife to you. Please…I’ll learn whatever it is you need from me. I promise.”
“I want to know you,” Branford said. “And not just because my queen demanded I do so. But try as I might, I can’t get anything out of you. Every disparaging thing you say about yourself infuriates me.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you angry. Please, don’t…don’t…”
“Don’t what?”
“Make me leave,” I finally said as tears began to pour down my cheeks again. “I know if I don’t get this right, you will find someone else to...to…”
“I won’t,” he said, insistent. “I told you, I want you to remain my wife.”
“But you still haven’t…” I couldn’t finish the sentence. I didn’t know the right words.
He sighed again and reached up to my face with his thumb to brush away the tears.
“You know why,” he said. “It’s not for lack of want.”
“It is because I’m afraid,” I said. The word inadequate floated through my head. “And because I don’t know what to do. I’ve already failed you in this regard. If I fail in others, you won’t want me anymore.”