Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 111362 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 557(@200wpm)___ 445(@250wpm)___ 371(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111362 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 557(@200wpm)___ 445(@250wpm)___ 371(@300wpm)
“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked, aching for the feel of John’s strong, comforting arms around her. She always felt safe wrapped in them. But would she feel safe now in the arms of a different man, not the man she thought she had wed?
“It is a complicated tale, one I don’t understand myself, and that makes it all the more difficult to explain to you. But I will endeavor to do so if you give me the chance.”
He sounded more like John, though recalling how he had spoken on the steps of the keep, like a lord that ruled with absolute authority, made her realize he had a side to him that she didn’t know at all. So who was this man she had married?
She wiped at her eyes trying to catch the tears before they fell and that tore at Ruddock’s heart. He hated seeing her hurt and hated even more that he was the cause. He moved fast, thinking she might stop him, and had her in his arms before she realized he was holding her.
Sorrell looked up at him, ready to order him to let her go.
“I can’t stand to see you cry,” he said and kissed at the corners of her eyes.
This was John, the man she loved, and she let herself relax against him as his arms closed snugly around her.
“I don’t recall the last time I offered an apology to anyone. Northwick men rarely, if ever, apologize and I doubt you’ll ever hear it from me again, though something warns me that might not be so, but…” He lifted her chin to look up at him. “I am sorry for any pain I may have caused you. I never meant to hurt you, only to protect you.”
“Pain from a wound or an illness I can deal with. I know, in due time, it will come to an end. Pain that touches the heart can be never-ending and the thought of losing John stirs my heart with dreadful fear.”
“You’re not losing John. You’re here in his arms where you belong,” he assured her and lowered his mouth to hers only to have her turn her face away from him.
“Am I?” she asked when he drew his head back and she turned her head to face him and seeing the disappointment on his face tugged at her heart. “Will John be helping with the chores tomorrow? Will he listen to Melvin’s complaints? Will he reside with his wife in the keep?”
“Those are all things we will discuss.”
“And you will decide?” she asked and waited for an answer she already knew.
“We have much to discuss,” he said.
Sorrell feared that she would die there and then, feeling as if her heart shattered in her chest. Refusing to answer her was an answer itself. It took all her willpower to step out of his embrace and not think it was like stepping away from him forever.
“That we do, Lord Ruddock,” she said, keeping a tilt to her chin and her shoulders squared.
Ruddock didn’t care for her demeanor. It seemed as if she had made a decision and not a good one for him. He wouldn’t remind her again that they would stay wed, their marriage vows sealed. In time, she would calm, and they would talk.
But at the moment he had managed to clear the first hurdle. His true identity. The second hurdle would probably be difficult as well, since he knew without doubt that she would fly into a rage when she found out that she would not be remaining here with her sisters. She would be returning home with him.
Sorrell remained silent on their return walk to the keep, every spot she glanced at a memory of John and the joy she had shared with him. She had been so lost in those bittersweet memories that she hadn’t realized he had taken hold of her hand as they walked. Or that her small fingers had instinctively entwined with his.
They fit, even though his were large and hers small. They fit as if they were meant to be together.
Erland greeted them once they entered the keep and Ruddock was quick to take his leave, reminding her they would talk later.
Sorrell was surprised to see the Great Hall so busy, filled with Ruddock’s and Tarass’s warriors enjoying the feast that had been prepared for her and John’s small marriage celebration. But that was no more, since there was nothing to celebrate.
“My sisters?” Sorrell asked of one of the harried servants.
“Your mum’s solar.”
She climbed the stairs, unwanted tears filling her eyes, clouding them, and an aching pain squeezing at her heart. She didn’t need more tears. She was stronger than that. She had to keep her head clear and her anger—or was it disappointment—at bay, and be wise about this. She would talk this out with her sisters and hopefully it would help to stop the pain of losing John.