Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 109722 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 549(@200wpm)___ 439(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109722 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 549(@200wpm)___ 439(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
Though she was foolish, Royden admired her courage. And while he didn’t fear making love to his wife, he did worry what she would think of him once it was done. He was far from the mannered man he’d once been.
Not trusting himself, he went and grabbed his plaid off the chest.
“You refuse to make love to me and if you refuse to sleep beside me, then I’ll surely know you’re a coward.” He turned a scowl on her that froze her. Otherwise, she would have jumped out of bed and hightailed it out of there to hide.
“You call me a coward?” he asked, not believing what he heard.
“If you don’t remain here and sleep beside your wife, you are a coward.” Good Lord, she said it again. Whatever gave her the audacity to say such a thing or demand he sleep with her?
He tossed his plaid aside and crawled slowly from the bottom of the bed up and over her. He almost smiled as she eased herself back to lay flat as he got closer and closer until he finally braced his stump and hand to either side of her head to keep his body hovering over her.
“So you invite me between your legs, do you?”
She did. Good Lord, she truly did, but… “No. You refused my offer so now you can wait.”
He all but choked on his word. “What?”
“You heard me. You’ll sleep beside me, but not make love to me.”
“And what’s going to stop me?” he asked, bringing his lips down to hover just above hers, then felt… “Did you just poke me in the chest?”
“I did,” she admitted.
“A poke, a sorrowful one at that, is not going to stop me.”
“It wasn’t meant to stop you. It was my response to your question—you.”
It took him a moment to comprehend, then he laughed. “I’m going to stop myself.”
“Aye, you will, since Royden would never force himself on me, not ever,” she said.
Damn, she was right, he wouldn’t. But… “I don’t have to force you, Oria, I know if I slip my hand between your legs I’ll feel how ready you are for me.”
“I won’t deny that,” she said, “but I will deny myself until you stop being such a stubborn arse.”
A spark of anger fueled his words. “So I’m a coward and an arse.”
“That will be up to you to prove otherwise.”
“By sleeping beside you in bed without touching you?” he asked.
“Aye, and I’ll have your word on it,” she said, hoping this sudden show of courage—tinged with a bit of fear—proved wise.
“You have my word, but just for tonight,” he said, capitulating, though he didn’t know why. His shaft was still hard and with her sleeping beside him, it wouldn’t soften anytime soon. And he wouldn’t go back on his word not to touch her, so it was going to be an agonizing night. Why then had he agreed? It was simple. He wanted her there beside him.
She smiled and pulled the blanket up under her chin. “Good-night, husband.” She turned on her side away from him, not trusting herself not to touch him when she ached to. But this was a start for them, here together in bed, and once in his bed, she didn’t intend to leave it.
He couldn’t get to her. No matter how fast or hard he ran, he couldn’t reach Oria even though she was close. It was as if something was holding him in place. He could see the blood, running down her neck, soaking her garments. She fought the man, her fisted hands punching at him. He yelled for her to stop but she didn’t and he made a fist, raising his hand and brought it down hard against her jaw, and she dropped to the ground.
He broke loose of whatever held him and ran, reaching the man before he could pick up Oria and throw her into a cart. His hand went to his throat and squeezed.
“I’m going to kill you. Kill you,” Royden raged.
He felt the man grip his arm, fighting to break free, and when he looked down, it was Oria’s hand he saw.
Royden woke to find his hand at his wife’s throat.
Chapter 12
Royden woke with an ache in his neck. He unfurled himself from the wooden chair, stretching his neck and shoulders as best he could. He cringed not from the aches of sleeping in a chair in his solar, but with the memory of what he had done to his wife last night.
He got to his feet, stretching as he did, working the soreness out of his taut muscles. He’d been sickened by finding his own hand squeezing the life from his wife when he woke with a jolt from his nightmare. He was surprised she hadn’t run from the room when he had quickly let go of her, though her labored breathing may have had something to do with that.