Page 18 of Forbidden Desire

Inhaling at her plea, I recognized on some level it was a reasonable request. Each of us needed a purpose, and while procreation was her highest calling, it could not always entertain her. “I will not have you tending the fire or sweeping the floor.” I chuckled dryly at the idea. “You are my wife now, remember?”

“I don’t mean those things.” She smiled, an adorable blush rising to her cheekbones. “But there must be something I can do?”

“What did you do?” I inched closer, realizing I had never asked. “Before you came here, what did you do with your time?”

“I studied psychology and worked at a local center for victims of domestic abuse.” Her lips pressed into a hard line as though there was some deeper meaning to her reply.

“Domestic abuse?” I straightened. “What is this? We do not have the term here.”

“You surprise me, Maighstir.” Desiree stifled a laugh, and I sensed she was mocking me.

“Nigheab bheag.” I lowered my tone enough to capture her attention. “Do not deride me.”

“I’m not,” she insisted, moving to straddle me. “I just mean I hope you don’t need such things here.”

“Explain.”

“It’s a place where those who find themselves in violent or destructive relationships can be safe.” Her head lowered. “They are mainly women, and sometimes they bring children.”

“The men hurt their wives where you come from?” I was incredulous. Wives were the center of our entire world. I could not conceive such an idea.

“Some,” she admitted. “It can be volatile. We give them somewhere to stay and support to find alternatives.”

Silence swirled around us as I tried to register her reply.

“I cannot understand why any man would be cruel to the woman who bore his children.”

“Maighstir...” Her chin lifted, and I saw the queries burning in her eyes.

“Hmm?”

“Some might say your people are just as cruel.” Her tone was tentative, suggesting she was aware how perilous this line of conversation would be for her if I misconstrued it, but sensing her concerns, I chose not to take her bait.

“Why would they say that, nigheab bheag?” I relaxed, watching her struggling for the right words. She was beautiful when she flustered, her pale skin flushing as her lower lip caught between her white teeth.

“The men here have the right to physically chastise their wives.” She gulped, her breathing ragged. “That was made illegal a long time ago where I come from.”

“Spanking?” I captured her chin, compelling her to meet my gaze. “Is that what you mean?”

“Yes, Maighstir,” she squeaked.

“I do not think anyone could deem a thorough spanking as abuse. No man is allowed to step too far or spank too hard.”

“But who polices what is too hard?” she countered. “If you give each husband leave to admonish and discipline, he can do whatever he chooses.”

“True.” I had never given the matter much thought until she put it that way. “I have trusted their judgment, but I believe I would hear if one went too far and would ensure he paid the price.”

“I understand.” She sighed. “Perhaps it is easier to manage when you are a population of only two hundred.”

“I believe so.” I stroked her heated skin with my thumb, saddened by her resigned tone. “But maybe you raise a good point. There is no process in place to elevate the matter to me if a woman is badly treated. Perhaps there should be.”

Her eyes widened. “Yes, perhaps.”

Sensing it was taking every ounce of her willpower to hold back and not demand I do more, I was grateful for her restraint.

“You have given me much to think on, nigheab bheag.” Leaning forward, I kissed the side of her face. “As I suspect, you always shall.”

Desiree turned her face to mine. “Thank you, Maighstir.”

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