Chapter 7
Marcus was caught in two worlds.
One was the desire to have as little to do with his wife as possible.
As he had told her, and as he had told himself, this was a marriage of convenience only.
Now that the deed was done, there was no need to pretend at anything different.
His wife knew her purpose and it was best not to confuse things.
The other was born from what his sister had told him.
While it might be easier to ignore my wife, is that really the smartest thing to do? We are set to spend the rest of our lives together, and how will it look if we act as complete strangers?
Then there was the matter of social expectations. There would come a time when they must be seen in public as man and wife, so creating a sense of companionship made sense. But did she even want that? Did he?
“It is not so long of a journey from here,” Marcus said after some time. The silence that sat between them was heavy and awkward and he felt compelled to break it. “Thirty minutes or so.”
His wife sat across from him in the carriage. Her hands were folded. Her posture was stiff. And she purposefully sat with her body turned to look out the window. Such was the coldness that seeped from her body that he had no doubt she bore no desire to speak to him whatsoever.
“All right,” she said without looking at him.
“I think you will like it at my home. Our home, as it is. I was not lying when I said that you would have your freedom, know that my words were the truth.”
“I believe you.”
“Today was a confused affair,” he continued as the tension between them built. “Hopefully, once we settle into our roles, things will become more simple.”
“I am sure they will be.”
If Marcus did not know any better, he might say that she hated him. However, he was certain that what she hated was the circumstance. While he offered her freedom, he knew that this was the opposite of what she was being given.
She might try and see things from my point of view. It is not as if this is something that I yearned for either.
The carriage rattled along the dusty road, and the silence continued as if it was a third passenger.
Marcus did his best not to look at his wife, figuring that if she wanted little to do with him, then so be it.
He would not beg. He would not encourage.
Let her realize how difficult this marriage was sure to be if she wished to continue in this mode of operation.
Despite his efforts, not looking at his wife proved increasingly difficult…
There could be no denying how beautiful she was. Her red hair particularly; it shone bright in the sun so that it looked as if her head was on fire. And those big greens eyes, even as cold as they currently were, were difficult not to stare at.
“What?” she snapped suddenly.
“Excuse me?” Marcus said.
“What are you looking at?” She turned and scowled at him.
“Was I looking at something?” he said innocently.
“You were.” She narrowed her eyes.
“In my defense, there is little else for me to look at in here. Should I shut my eyes?” He looked at her plainly. “Pretend that I am sleeping, perhaps?”
She narrowed her eyes on him and then turned back to the window.
Was it so strange that Marcus rather enjoyed how cantankerous she was?
Where most ladies who might find themselves in this situation would behave meekly and nervously, his wife was not of that ilk.
She was fierce and combative. She was independent and self-assured.
And she was not one to shy away from a fight.
How would this translate itself to their marriage? Marcus could not say. And more oddly still, there was a small part of him that was excited to find out.
Suddenly, the carriage bucked.
It was an abrasive movement, nearly sending the carriage off the road. And when the driver tried to correct coarse, the carriage lurched violently. Marcus braced himself, able to stay in his seat. His wife, however, was not nearly so nimble.
“Oh!” she cried out as she flew across the carriage.
Marcus saw her coming, the way her body lurched and tumbled right at him. Her eyes turned wide in panic, her mouth opened as she went to scream, and before either of them knew what was going on, her body was thrown into Marcus’ as if she had leapt toward him on purpose.
Marcus wrapped his arms around her body to catch her. He then pulled her in as if in protection. A face full of her hair, her scent filling his nostrils, and his hands gripped her waist tight.
She froze as soon as she fell into him.
Slowly, she pulled back, her eyes still wide. Marcus did not let go, more out of instinct than anything. For a few moments there they were, Marcus holding her wife, his wife just about sitting in his lap.
Their eyes met. Held. Faces inches apart. A beat passed between them… and then another… he could feel her heart racing in her chest. Her body was stiff from the surprise, but it slowly relaxed into him and for a brief second Marcus wondered if she might never leave his arms again…
“What are you doing?” she yelped suddenly and pushed herself back.
“I might ask you the same question,” he said. “If you wished to sit so close to me, all you had to do was ask.”
She scowled at him as she scrambled back onto her own seat. She then folded her arms, crossed her legs, and turned away. He continued to watch her, taking note of the pink flush in her cheeks and the heavy rising of her chest.
Then she glanced at him, saw him watching, and she looked away again.
Marcus resisted the urge to chuckle. She was clearly mortified, while trying so hard to act as if she was furious with him. Another quick glance, another scowl, and she focused out the window as if her life depended on it.
Whatever this marriage promises to be, I doubt it will be boring.
They rode the rest of the way in total silence.
Marcus had no doubt that his wife was embarrassed, and while he liked to pretend that her fall had no effect on him, that would be a lie. He could still smell her, he could still feel her, and his pulse quickened whenever he dared to linger for too long on that brief encounter.