by Glint, Chloe
She bit her bottom lip. "Are you sure you want to hear what my worries are?"
"Of course." Kale frowned, still certain it was something he'd done in his incompetence.
"When my sister and I were girls, my cousin, Mary, came to stay with us for a few days. She'd just gotten married, but her husband was needed by my father." She paused. "She spoke of how much she hated marriage. That is all I know of what happens between a man and wife, so I thought of it suddenly and was just shocked. That's all. We could have continued. I did not mean to make more of this than it is."
"Is that so?" Kale groaned. "I should have asked somebody about this. You're certain it will hurt you? Then perhaps it is better that we don't—"
She seized his hand and held it so hard it hurt. The intensity in her eyes surprised him.
"Whether it hurts or not is no matter." She swallowed. "I am your wife, and I want to be your wife in all ways. I want to carry your children. I know the two of us are an unsuitable match, but I still want to give you heirs. A son. And if I have to endure something unpleasant to give a child to you, then so be it."
"Oh, Camille." He looked down at her and felt respect. She cared for him. He could see it burning in her eyes.
He settled beneath the covers and pulled her close to him. Her eyes were wide in surprise at first, but then she shut them and laid her head against his chest. Time passed and her soft snores filled the room. He was glad she could sleep, but he knew he wouldn't tonight. He had begun to realize that they weren't an unsuitable match, but that he was an unsuitable husband.
Chapter Fourteen
The next morning, Kale's arm had gone numb because Camille had her head resting upon it. It was strange that he had not realized how beautiful his wife was before. Her brown hair with streaks of vivid copper contrasted well with her olive skin. Her lips were full on her face, begging him to kiss them even while she slept. She had a small nose, smaller than that of even her Gabrielle's. Her breasts were the perfect size. He'd always been drawn to Gabrielle's massive bosom, but perhaps they would have been too much for him. He could cup Camille's breast in hand and rub her nipples between his fingers. She also had a thin figure. As a small man himself, she fit perfectly in his arms. His wife also didn't look like a doll like her sister did. A doll was a play toy or something of fragile glass to be displayed on a shelf. Camille was more than that. She wasn't something to play with or gawk at.
She was something to love and cherish.
As Camille smiled in her sleep as if she'd heard his thoughts, he leaned forward and laid a kiss on her forehead. She let out a snore, then rolled over, holding all the blankets in her arms and leaving him completely uncovered. He took that as a sign he should get up and struggled out of bed. He had a mission this morning, a mission that he did not want his wife to know anything about. He dressed quickly and quietly and snuck out of the room.
The estate was quiet in the early morning, he'd come to learn. Even his staff had a bad habit of sleeping later than the norm, something he'd never chided them for. But he was certain the man he wanted to question, Mr. Kent, was awake. The man had been his butler for enough years that he knew his habits. Right now, the manservant would likely be in the library, pretending to be stealthy as he read hidden between the shelves. It was a habit Mr. Kent had at home, and Kale hadn't minded it then or now.
When Kale reached the library, he opened the door and stepped inside. It was quiet, as the library always was. Pink light streamed in through the window, drenching all of the leather-bound books. He peeked his head around a corner and saw just what he'd expected—Mr. Kent, curled up on the floor with a book in his hands. The manservant didn't notice he was there.
"And what do you think you're doing?" Kale snapped with mock harshness.
Mr. Kent leapt to his feet as if he had been slapped. "My apologies, sir. I was just…"
The fear in Mr. Kent's eyes faded when he saw Kale's teasing smile.
"Sir," Mr. Kent said. "You were jesting?"
"Of course I was." Kale shook his head. "You've been visiting our library for as long as I can remember. Why would I mind now?"
Mr. Kent shrugged. "Sometimes the strange ways of the rich still confuse even me. Were you in need of something? You do not often pay visits to the library unless your father is forcing you."
The reason why he had chosen to go to the library caused his cheeks to grow hot. He pictured Camille for a moment, sprawled out on the bed with the sheets tangled around her.
"I have a personal question to ask you that I do not want you to repeat to anyone, do you understand me?" Kale's voice developed a nervous edge.
"A personal question?" The grin left Mr. Kent's face. "I see. I'm surprised and honored you would choose me to ask. What is that is troubling you?"
Kale sighed and took a seat beside Mr. Kent on the floor. It was uncomfortable, but he was so uneasy that he could have been in the most luxurious seat in the world and still squirmed. He glanced at Mr. Kent out of the corner of his eye.
"I have heard rumors that you are experienced with the ways of women, is that correct?" Kale said.
Wherever Mr. Kent went, he always had maids behind him, whispering about his expertise with women. Of course, the man was attractive, so perhaps it was just wishful thinking on behalf of the women who lusted after him.
"Am I going to get into trouble for answering such a question?" Mr. Kent raised an eyebrow at him. He didn't appear flustered, but his body was stiffer.
"Don't be ridiculous." Kale grimaced. "Why would I punish you for something I asked? I'd appreciate any honesty. I won't repeat what I hear, just as I hope you'll also use discretion."
"Well, alright." Mr. Kent sighed. "I have taken a few women to their beds. I'm a lonely man, Kale, and women are intoxicating. How can I ignore their soft bodies and their glowing eyes? It is heaven on earth."
The butler's words made Kale think of Camille. Her skin was as soft as a pillow but warm to the touch. He realized he was daydreaming and shook his head to clear it.
"Do your women enjoy it when you go to bed with them?" Kale asked nervously.
His manservant's eyebrows shot up. "What? Why such questions?"
"I just…" Kale realized that by dancing around the actual problem, he was just making the situation worse. "I want to lay with Camille, but she's scared. She says it hurts women. I'm such a fool. I have a father who jumps from bed to bed, but I don't even know the first thing about any of this."
At first Kale thought he'd gone too far. His butler stared at him blank faced, but then a huge grin split his face. He threw his head back and let out a booming laugh.
"That was all that you were worried about?" Mr. Kent released a shaky gasp. "Oh, Lord in heaven. I thought you were trying to take me to my bed."
"What?" Kale sucked in spit and started to choke. "I'm married."
Mr. Kent snorted, then clapped him on the shoulder so hard it jostled him. "Alright. I suppose you're a late bloomer. Let me tell you something about women. Yes, it'll hurt at first, but they'll learn to enjoy it. It's like ale. You try it when you're young and loathe it, but after a few mugs, you learn it's actually pretty delicious. It's the same way with women and…this."
"It doesn't always hurt them?" Mr. Kent's words had him so relieved that he let out a sigh.
"If it always hurt them, then the human race would have died out long ago." Mr. Kent winked at him. "This is something your father should have taught you. With how he behaves, I'm surprised that man didn't give you lessons on lying with a woman to go along with your Latin."
Kale shook his head. "I stayed away from my father as much as possible growing up. Perhaps that's why I know so little about all of this. I didn't want to be like him, so I tried to avoid speaking about the thing he loves the most—women. I'm regretting it now. I feel like I've been thrown into a foreign country and am expected to learn the language overnight."
Shaking his head, Mr. Kent blew out a sigh. "Let me tell you something. I
f women are a foreign language, then they are all completely different. Trust me. They all like special things. It's just a matter of finding out what your wife enjoys that matters."
The words made his aching heart grow warmer. If that was the case, then perhaps he wasn't such a fool after all. He just had to learn Camille's language. And he planned to start right away.
****
Camille awoke with Kale jumping onto the bed beside her like an overexcited child. She rolled over, took one look at his overexcited face, and fought the urge to smack him in the nose. She buried her face in the ivy colored pillow.
"Why did you wake me up?" Camille groaned. "The day has yet to begun, and I was sleeping so well. I think I'm finally getting used to your snoring."
"I hate to tell you this, but I didn't sleep last night. You didn't hear my snoring." He paused. "I found out something about what we were talking about last night."
It's too early for this, she thought, groaning into her pillow. She couldn't even remember what the two of them had spoken about last night. She'd come back from dinner and stripped off her clothes. After that, she'd…they'd…Oh, heavens. She flew into the sitting position and pillows flew. Her head spun because she'd gotten up too quickly.
"You mean about the fact I feared pain?" Camille asked. "What were you out doing this morning?"
"Being with me won't always hurt," Kale said eagerly. "You just have to get used to it, is all."
He'd woken her up to tell her this? Yes, it was good news, but she didn't even want to think about such matters until she'd at least eaten some toast. Then that thought was chased out of her mind by another. How exactly had he discovered such information? It wasn't the sort of topic that would be in a book in the library. No writer would go into such things.
"How did you find out about this?" she whispered.
"I spoke to Mr. Kent." Kale said this proudly as if he had won a great jousting match.
Heat overcame her cheeks and she forgot how to breathe. Kale had spoken to his butler about this matter? She was so embarrassed she wanted to melt into the blankets.
"Why would you ask him that?" Camille yelped. "He's the butler."
"He's a friend too!" Kale said, appearing startled by her expression.
"Our talk was between us." Camille shook her head in disgust. "I wouldn't have spoken about this to even Gabrielle."
She flopped onto the bed and buried her face in the pillow. Kale touched her shoulder but she shook him off.
"Are we fighting?" Kale asked timidly.
"Yes." Her voice was muffled, but she annunciated clearly.
"Why?" Kale's voice sounded strained. "I was just trying to help."
Though she understood that, she didn't even want to think of what Mr. Kent, a stranger, thought of her now. What if he told everyone at the house of the matter? She didn't know how Kale could think it was alright to share something she'd spoken about only with him to the butler. It made her grind her teeth. She wanted some time to be alone. When Kale tried to touch her shoulder, she inched away again.
"Kale, I want you to leave me alone for a while." She propped herself up on her elbows and frowned at him.
"But…" Kale stared at her for a moment, then he finally nodded his head. "Alright. I'll leave."
He struggled off the bed, his face pale, and left the room. She was left all alone, struggling with her own emotions. She was embarrassed about what he'd ask the manservant, but he'd only been trying to help. She didn't know how she should feel. With a groan, she rolled onto her back again and wondered, Is this how marriage is supposed to be? She wasn't sure whether she wanted to kiss her husband or grab a chunk of hair and pull.
****
Kale sat at his desk, staring at the letter his mother had written him with his jaw tense. He was still distraught about his wife's reaction to his news, but he knew he couldn't ignore his mother's letter. Instead he picked up the piece of yellow parchment with a red wax seal. He heated the wax underneath the flame of a candle and then sliced open the flap with a knife.
To My Dearest Son,
It has been some time since you're wedding. I've longed to come see you, but your father has urged me to give you some time. I cannot wait any longer. Please be assured that I had nothing to do with the awful atrocity that occurred with Gabrielle. I love you dearly and would never hurt you in such a way. I wish to visit you, if you are not so overwhelmed with rage that you do not wish to speak with me.
Your loving mother,
Alexandria
With a sigh, he allowed the letter to slide from his fingers and onto the desk. He missed his mother and wanted to see her too. He wondered if he was allowed to talk to his parent about their fight, or whether it was another thing just between him and his wife. He groaned and put his face in his arms. He could understand Camille's anger. It had been a personal topic that hadn't been the wisest to share, yet he'd only wanted to please her and ease her woes. He hadn't seen his wife since morning and was frightened that she was still angry with him.
Yet when he looked at his mother's letter, he saw her apology and realized it was better if he spoke with his wife. He stood up, his head down, and left the office. He ignored greetings as he walked down the hallway. By the time he made it to his bedroom door, he was so nervous that his hand shook. Despite how little he wanted a confrontation—he'd always hated them—he opened the door and came inside. He found his wife sitting at the desk fiddling with the pages of a book. He could tell she wasn't really reading because she was looking into the corner instead.
"Camille?" Kale said.
She jumped to her feet. He realized he'd startled her.
"Kale." She pressed her hand to her heart. "Don't sneak up on me so. My heart is beating so fast."
"My apologies." His face flushed.
She nodded, still massaging her chest. Her lips were pursed and he could tell that she was deep in thought because of her furrowed eyebrows. His heart sped up as well, but because he was nervous. He sat on the bed and patted the place next to him. At first she stared at the spot as if she'd rather not, but then she sat down next to him. He looked at his hands.
"I was just trying to help," he muttered, not even bothering to lead into the topic of their argument.
"I know." She sighed. "And I am grateful you managed to learn so much. It's just…"
"I made a mistake." Kale reached out and touched her hand. "I suppose I'm new to all matters of being a husband."
She threaded her fingers through his. "And I am new at all matters of being a wife."
The awful silence came again. He'd thought that quiet had been defeated when the two of them had learned to speak properly to one another. He gazed at his wife's face and saw that she must have felt as badly as he did. I really am still learning about her. She isn't as simple as I imagined. He squeezed her hand and realized he was alright with that.
"I'm sorry," he said.
"Me too."
The two of them smiled at each other and he felt an odd sense of relief. She reached out for him and he pulled her into his arms. He buried his face into his wife's hair and thought of all of the fights his parents had had in the past. The two of them had always been so violent, so deliberately hurtful, toward one another. Yet this fight wasn't so bad. He pulled back and cupped her cheek.
"You know, if this is the worst things get, I think we're going to have a pretty good life ahead of us," Kale said.
Tears filled her eyes. He thought he'd said the wrong thing again. He picked his brain, scrambling to figure out what he'd said.
"Did I say something wrong?" Kale's eyes widened. "What's the matter? Why do you look so close to tears?"
"You are the most confusing man I've ever met," Camille said.
She kissed him so hard he grew dizzy. As his wife's warm lips covered his, he really wished he knew what he'd said—so that way he could say it again.
Chapter Fifteen
The next day, Camille sat in the fat armchair in Kale's offi
ce. He was at the desk with a quill in his hand. A smile was on his face. The book she was reading did not intrigue her nearly as much as his expression. She stood up and headed over to the desk. She longed to wrap her arms around her husband's neck to be closer to him, but she was still nervous about initiating physical touch. He didn't appear to mind yesterday when I kissed him, she thought. This comforted her. She leaned down and wrapped her arms around Kale's neck. He was warm and smelled of cinnamon. Perhaps it was because of the pudding they had for dessert.
Kale leaned his head back and kissed her lips. She didn't think she'd ever grow accustomed to having his mouth on hers. Her skin tingled and she smiled. Kale's attention remained on her and the two of them looked into each other's eyes. Her heart sped up and her palms grew sweaty. The fight yesterday became more and more of a distant memory. She squeezed his neck harder and wondered what her husband was thinking. She knew he had to think about Gabrielle sometimes. The fact still stung, but she was determined to not let her unease get to her.
"What are you doing?" she whispered, though she had no reason to be quiet.
"I'm writing a letter to my mother," he said. "She longs to come visit us to see how we're doing."
"You look happy," she said.
"I am." He nuzzled her. "I love my mother. I think you will enjoy your company as well. She is a good, Christian woman."
The thought of meeting somebody who meant so much to Kale made her more nervous than excited, but she nodded.
"Well, I look forward to speaking with her." She frowned as she recalled the large woman who had stood at Kale's side during the wedding. "I believe I saw her but did not speak with her."
"I imagine she must have been as shocked as I was by what happened." Kale paused. "She didn't know about the bride switching. I wouldn't have been surprised if my father had removed her from the premises to keep her from making trouble."
The words dredged up hurtful memories, but she swallowed and nodded. "That's awful. Your own mother…How sad."