Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 97127 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 486(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97127 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 486(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
It was her turn to play a charade and free him as he once freed her, and she would do it with confidence and determination.
He would expect her to shed tears and cry thinking of their eventual parting, and she would need to play the role well. It would not take much since just the thought of saying goodbye to Michael forever filled her with dread. She would not lose him. She would not let Decimus rob her of Michael. She would have her husband even if she had to bury Decimus to do it.
After all, the seer had spoken; she would be the demise of Decimus.
Now she understood, and she would see that the prophecy rang true.
Chapter 32
In public Mary played the obedient wife to Decimus extremely well, and the heartbroken wife to Michael, often appearing tearful over their eventual parting. Her true self was the scheming, independent woman who intended to have things her way, and she was proud of her.
Mary had asked for a note to be sent to Reena and had written it in a Celtic script that few could read or write, though she knew Reena would understand the words. Her message, she hoped, would bring a visit from Reena and Brigid and, of course, their husbands since the men would not allow their wives to travel alone.
The visit would give her time to confide the Dark One’s identity in the two women and formulate escape plans. She was taking a chance, a dangerous one, but then her husband was worth the danger.
She sat on a narrow wooden bench in a small flower garden behind the fortress. Loving hands tended this garden, forcing a tiny bit of beauty to grow in hell. Summer was but a week away and many flowers were in full bloom while others abounded with ripe buds aching to burst open.
“My lady,” a servant girl gasped, coming to an abrupt halt after rounding the corner of the fortress.
Mary smiled hoping to calm her unease. The girl appeared worn out, her brown hair hanging limply around her pretty oval face. Her hands, which she hugged in front of her were red and raw, perhaps from too much scrubbing in hot water. She was reed-thin and had the loveliest pale blue eyes.
“Is this your garden?” Mary asked.
The girl looked on the verge of tears and Mary hurried to assuage her concern.
“It is beautiful. You tend it with great care.”
“I—I—” she stumbled nervously over her words. “No one kn-knows of it.”
“A secret garden, how wonderful. May I share in it with you?”
The girl looked stunned, and at a loss for words, she nodded.
“Your name?” Mary asked.
“Jenna, my lady.”
Mary was not accustomed to being referred to as “my lady.” She did not feel the title appropriate or necessary. She would have much preferred for Jenna to know her as Mary.
“Jenna, a lovely name. Will you not sit with me and tell me about your garden?” With so much chaos of late it would be nice to talk of so simple a thing as a garden.
Soon Mary found herself on her knees weeding the flower patch with Jenna, who was surprised that a lady knew so much about plants.
“What are you doing?”
The harsh voice startled them both and when Mary looked upon Decimus, for an instant, she forgot he was Michael and cringed at the sight of him.
He was dressed completely in black except for a touch of gold trim. The furious glare in his dark eyes and his hands planted firmly on his hips almost made her tremble in fear. That is until she looked over at Jenna. The poor lass looked absolutely terrified.
Mary immediately sought to defend the cowering girl. “My lord, Jenna was nice enough to let me help her with this beautiful garden she planted for your pleasure.”
Jenna’s trembling did not cease, though her hand inched closer to Mary’s and rested against hers as if in appreciation and protection.
Decimus took a sharp step forward and Mary grabbed Jenna’s hand, holding her firm before she could fall back in fright.
“My wife will not tend a garden. That duty is meant for a servant.”
“And Jenna does her duty well, which I was thinking . . .” Though the thought had just come to her. “You promised me a personal servant to tend to my needs.”
He looked about to strangle her.
Mary smiled. “You are so very generous to me, my lord, and I would appreciate it if Jenna could be made my servant and mine alone.”
For a brief instant she recognized a glint of Michael in his dark eyes, and her heart filled with joy. She did so love that man and immediately felt guilty for toying with him.
“I would be most grateful, my lord,” she said with a bow of her head.
“You would serve my wife well?”