Chapter 13
MADELEINE
Iwoke the next morning, tucked into the bed of my new chamber.
The room was lovely, facing the front garden, but days previous, I’d had a glimpse of the view from Alexander’s window.
It was spectacular, looking out over lush fields and trees as far as my eyes could see.
The scope of beauty here took my breath away.
Last night, I had asked him if he ever thought to leave the heavy draperies open and gaze at the stars or watch the sunrise.
He had studied me for a moment before shaking his head.
“I confess, I have not. Perhaps it is something we could do together.”
I had tried not to blush at his words. It was subtle, but I heard the innuendo behind his utterance. Once we laid together, I would be in his chamber—in his bed. The view would be mine.
And I would be his.
His statement he was not rushing our relations had been both a blessing and a curse.
I was sheltered and innocent, although I saw the coupling of animals often in the barn.
Still, I was not innocent enough to think that Alexander was without a past. He was too handsome and virile not to have had many interludes.
I worried he would be bored with me and lose interest quickly at my lack of knowledge.
Aside from the occasional brush of his finger along my cheek or the press of his lips to my head or high on my cheek, he had not touched me.
Yet every time he was close, every time our eyes met and he stared at me, I felt his desire.
Last night was the closest I had ever been to another person.
Wrapped in his embrace, his voice murmuring my favorite passages in my ear, I felt nothing but peace. Affection. Adoration perhaps.
And I wanted more.
The very sight of him caused flutters within my stomach.
Watching him laugh made me want to smile.
When he threw back his head, the corded muscles of his neck made me swallow, my own throat dry.
I had never seen a man with such wide shoulders and long legs.
Recalling how the heavy muscles felt under my touch when he had injured his foot made me wonder how all his muscles would feel. I yearned to touch him.
His hands fascinated me. Strong and capable with long, thick fingers, elegant, yet not only used to pen correspondence. He worked his own land. Tilled the soil and hammered in posts for fencing and even fed the animals.
There was nothing he could not do.
My favorite moments were when he would look at me.
Speak to me in his low, modulated voice.
Offer me his arm as we were walking. Tuck a stray curl behind my ear.
Tease me. It made me feel giddy. The touch of his hand made me want more.
I found myself staring at his mouth when he spoke, wondering how it would feel if he kissed me.
I had thought I would know this morning, but he had been a perfect gentleman.
He was right to decide we should be patient.
Despite all the wonderful things I knew about him, at times, I was still frightened.
I recalled hearing whispers of women who visited my father’s estate years prior, of how men acted one way to some people and mistreated their wives, believing them to be their property and theirs to do with as they pleased.
I knew from experience how my father mistreated me, although he chose not to hide it.
I prayed Alexander was not that type of man. That the gentle soul I was beginning to know was the only side to him.
I could only wait to find out.
ALEXANDER
I walked into the study, tugging on my cravat.
It had been a vexing morning, and I was tired of dealing with difficult servants, all the issues of the farms, and the vast amount of correspondence that kept flowing across my desk.
All of it kept me from enjoying my new wife and getting to know her more.
I was finding it quite frustrating only seeing her at dinner the past two nights.
I headed toward the corner, intent on a tumbler of scotch, some peace and quiet, and a good luncheon.
I poured the scotch and took a large mouthful, enjoying the taste of the rich amber liquid.
The Scots could certainly brew a fine liquor.
A noise startled me, and I turned, seeing Madeleine, hovering beside the mantel. I frowned at her unexpected appearance.
“Madeleine?”
She bobbed an awkward curtsy, and I had to resist rolling my eyes at her unneeded gesture. She was my wife, not my servant.
“Forgive me, my lord, for the intrusion.”
“What are you doing in my study?”
Her eyes widened and terror laced her voice. “I was not doing anything dishonest, my lord. I was trying to bring a little sunshine into the room.” She indicated the vase of flowers on the mantel.
I stared at them, blinking. No one had ever brought flowers into my study. Under my strict instructions, unless it was to clean the room under Edward’s watchful eyes, no one ventured in here.
“Who let you in?”
Her hands fluttered. “The door was unlocked.”
I scowled in frustration. Had I not locked it?
Her hands moved to her throat. “I have angered you. Displeased you, my lord?”
I looked at the mantel, unsure how to answer. Her offering was sweet, and I wasn’t used to gestures of that sort.
With a grimace, I turned back to the liquor, picking up my glass and downing the remaining contents. I supposed, as my wife, she would be allowed to go anywhere in the house, without question. I needed to remember that. A smile tugged on my lips.
I wasn’t used to having a wife either. I had just been bemoaning the fact that I hadn’t seen enough of her and there she was, and I was acting like an arse.
I spun around to assure her all was well, but she had disappeared. No doubt hurried away, upset by my silence. Thinking I was displeased, as she put it.
The flowers looked…nice on the mantel, the bright colors standing out in the otherwise masculine room.
I would seek out Madeleine and escort her to lunch. Assure her I was not angry. Otherwise, she wouldn’t eat, and I wanted her to get healthy. I withheld a sigh. I wanted her to stop cowering in alarm as well, but I knew it would all take time.
I was sitting at the desk, reading some correspondence, when Madeleine entered the room again. She shut the door behind her and approached the desk. Confused, I watched as she placed a small bundle of reeds on my desk along with a rose. Her words send shards of ice down my spine.
“I am ready for my punishment, my lord.”
For a moment, I was numb with shock.
Punishment. She thought I meant to mete out punishment on her for the infraction of placing flowers in my study. For attempting to add a little color in a place she did not yet consider to be her home.
I had to shut my eyes and count to ten. I unfurled myself from the chair and rounded the desk.
She stood, her head bowed, hands clasped, as always, in tight fists. I noticed for the first time ever, her gloves were not voluntarily on her hands. Her shaking fingers were even more delicate than I recalled from the brief glimpse I’d had on the day of our wedding.
“And what, pray tell, is your punishment?” I asked mildly. “I confess, I have little experience with matters such as this.”
A long, furious shiver ran through her body. She held out her trembling bare hands, opened her fists, displaying them palm side up. Her eyes were downcast, but I knew if I saw them, they would be petrified yet resigned.
“To be taught a lesson, sir. Not to overstep my bounds.”
I caught one hand in mine, lifting it closer for inspection.
Thin white scars, multitudes of them, showed on her skin.
Small puncture marks dotted the thin flesh.
All healed over, yet telling a story so ugly, it made my stomach roll.
I stroked the palm, feeling the thickness of the scars she carried, wondering how much deeper the scars in her mind were.
“Your father beat you with reeds,” I stated, keeping the fury from my voice.
“Yes.”
“And the rose?”
“I held the stem in my other hand and presented it to him when he was done as a gift.”
“Your blood to soothe his anger?”
“Yes.”
I released her hand and picked up the other. It was similar, but it bore more scars. He had purposefully beaten her weaker side with additional strokes so as not to render her useless. She could still perform her chores.
I dropped her hand and picked up a reed, swishing it in the air. It made a low, hissing sound before hitting the wood. Madeleine flinched at the noise.
“Why have you brought me so many reeds?”
“So you could choose which one to use, as my father did. I followed my usual instructions, my lord. Have I displeased you again?”
I had to clear my throat before speaking. Rage coursed through my veins, but I did not wish to frighten her more. The fury was not directed at her, but I suddenly understood her fear more than I had before, and the reason for it sickened me. “Madeleine, look at me. Now.”
She lifted those glorious eyes, all that much brighter with the tears she was seeking to hide and the terror that lay within them. Her skin was whiter than snow.
“Pick up the reeds and the rose.”
Shaking, she did as I asked.
“Hand them to me.”
Her breathing was picking up, and I knew she was imagining the horror of the punishment that lay ahead.
“Watch me carefully.”
I strode to the fireplace, snapping the reeds in half and flinging them into the flames.
I stripped away the thorns on the rose and added those to the rapidly burning strips of wood.
I returned to her side, lifting her hand and placing the rose within her palm.
I closed her tiny fingers around the stem.
“The only roses you shall ever hold from this day forward will cause you no pain. You will never again know the sting of a reed on your palm—or anywhere else.”
I stepped closer, cupping her face, meeting her bewildered and increasingly watery gaze.