Page 63 of Hunted By the Headless Horseman
History repeats itself, but in a new way, as I strip my little bookworm, blowing frustrated air through my nostrils. I shouldn’t be too hard on her, but I do not have that luxury. With recent events and the understanding of what kind of man her former husband is, there can be no room for foolhardy risks. Belle requires my protection. Therefore, she must follow my command.
Her heart may be weak, but it is truly great, much too great for this world. Now that I’ve seen a piece of her former life, she truly awes me with how much she has overcome, how she has found peace from her past, reclaimed herself, and holds no bitter spirit. Hurt, yes. Righteous anger, naturally. But bitterness? The word could never apply to my Belle.
After ensuring no moonlight may pierce the heavy drapes, I remove my clothes and lower her into the bath. She stirs, roused by the change.
“Jack?” she mumbles, coming out of her unconscious stupor.
“Don’t turn,” I command and take the rose shampoo to her hair, working it into a lather.
“What…happened?”
“Confound it, Belle! I told you to stay at the bookshop.”
“Mmm…” She arches her neck, eyes closed as I massage her hair, scraping my nails along her scalp. “I can’t lose you, Jack. I knew what you were doing, where you were going.”
I give a sharp yank on her hair, silently praising her when she keeps her eyes closed. “I can handle myself, Belladonna Moore. When I give you such a command, I require your utmost obedience.”
She scrunches her brow, parting her lips, but I interrupt her, “Please do not misunderstand. This is not my endeavor to rule over you or imprison you. I am not like those men, likeyour?—”
“Don’t, please,” she pleads softly, eyes still clenched, submissive to a fault. “Don’t say his name or even what he was to me.”
“Regardless, I am not?—”
“I know you’re not,” she interrupts a second time, rippling a perturbed prickle along my spine. “You never could be.”
Thunderation, she makes it nigh impossible to scold her, much less punish her. She is strong in every way, but her sweet disposition, her will to always see the best in me, undoes me every time, nearly strangling my breath.
Heaving a sigh, I reach for the bath cup nearby, urge her to sit up, and fill the cup before tipping it to rinse her hair clean. She shivers, though the water is steamy. And when I set the cup aside, she throws her arms, her body against mine—the shiver evidence of her never wishing to be parted from me. I remember our vows to one another. They were as sacred and spiritual as wedding vows. I care not for tradition and legal requirements.
Belladonna Claire Holloway became Belladonna Claire Moore that night. Married in the eyes of all the gods and spirits of this precious earth.
Belle is my wife. And I will care for her as such.
When she squeezes my frame, nuzzling her head along my shoulder, I gather her in my arms and do my best to explain. “Belle, you are the center of my universe.”
“And you’re mine.”
I grunt, annoyed, but annoyed more at myself for feeling annoyed by her interruptions. “My turn to speak. As much as I love and cherish your tongue, my Belle, please…fucking hold it at present.”
“Yes, Sir.”
Good girl.
“While you may think the best of me, I still wish to explain my intentions. It is my duty and my honor to protect you, my Belle. If I were to ever fail in this, the sin would be far greater, the understanding and emotion would be far worse than if anything happened to me. I will always choose you first. Unconditionally. Irrevocably. Everlastingly.”
I stroke her hair, continuing firmly, “Therefore, Belle, I mustinsist you choose yourself. I am unworthy of such an elevated position. And…I do not desire it. I forbid it with every bone in my body.” She stiffens, but I raise a hand, not allowing her to respond. “First, you must take care of your heart. When you put yourself first, you put me first. Your heart is my heart. Your soul is my soul. As Cathy said, ‘I am Heathcliff.’ So, I am Belle. I am Belladonna. Is that understood?”
“No promises. Because I am Jack, Jackson Elias Moore. My own being.” She leans up and tenderly kisses my neck. “But I’ll do my best.
I pause, satisfied with that for now.
“I will not be lax in my duty and protection of you. You will indeed be punished.”
“Mmm,” she sighs, melting against me, snuggling closer to my collarbone. A yawn confirms she is fatigued. “Can I sleep first?”
“We may sleep first, my Belle. Until the dawn comes, I will lie awake, watching my beautiful wife rest. And hear her snore,” I add with a chuckle.
“Oh, bloody pumpkins.”
