Page 42 of Hunted By the Headless Horseman
I pause in rubbing her back.Belle, forgive me for my intrusion, but you are the strongest-hearted woman I have ever had the fortune of knowing. You may have been taught all manner of womanly submissiveness, but it doesn’t rule you. You have your own rules. You do not maintain a clean and neat environment out of some sense of conformity. You do it because you wish to bless others and give yourself a sense of satisfaction and comfort. I have sensed the care andattention you put into your work. It is rewarding for you. Such work would not be rewarding if it were born out of their mere laws.
At first, she says nothing, and I fear I have overstepped…until, “Thank you, Jack. That means a lot. Believe it or not, I wasn’t very good at anything growing up. Except for one thing.”
Reading?
“Well, okay, two. The other was being the prettiest girl in the entire cult.” Her tone conveys nothing. No disgust, nor pride. “Look, Jack, I am not begrudging that I’m beautiful. I know I am.”
And charming.
“Okay, and charming,” she adds with a slight huff.
And adorable.
“Are you finished?”
Irresistible, impossible, and utterly incomprehensible at times.
“Right back at you, Mr. Headless Highwayman.”
I’m adorable?
“No, but I doadoreyou. But anyway…” her tone darkens again as she prepares to continue. “I was ten. And Thaddeus was…twenty-three.” Loathing practically soaks her voice. “When I hit adolescence—um, do you know what adolescence is?”
Your maturing years?I refrain from saying maidenhood.
“That works. Thaddeus was a higher Brother at the time. He was extremely handsome, charismatic, and the most talented brawler, sharpshooter, and swordsman. All the girls hoped to become one of his wives. Yes, polygamy is a thing.”
I stiffen, growling low in our bond. While the practice ofpolyamorygrows more popular in many circles and provides much love and connection among partners, the act of polygamy is far different in its benefit to a male, particularly more toxic males, as the one she describes. The thought of breaking every bone in this man’s body will become a prominent vision. And death by a million cuts. Or a swift hanging.
“When I was twelve, and these big bumps on my chest appeared, and I had several boys very interested in me, Thaddeus acted early and arranged a betrothal with my father. None of the boys bothered me after that. I belonged to him. Mimiwas infuriated when she first learned, and she grew more intent on giving me books that were either examples of positive masculinity likePride and Prejudice,or the opposite,The Handmaid’s Tale.”
I would bury him alive.
While it was quite common for young women to marry as young as seventeen, men also married young. Such a spread as she described would have been considered, not only rare, but scandalous. Catherine was nineteen when we married. I was twenty-three.
I had my misgivings the first time Belle informed me of her age, but she has made her maturity, goals, and wants in life clear. She is liberated and independent, albeit her gentle spirit requires a man to protect her and care for her, especially in her situation and with her past.
Not just any man. Me. Unequivocally and unconditionally me.
Threading her fingers through mine, Belle cuddles as close as possible. When she begins toying with my chest hair and idly tracing my tattoos, I can’t help but chuckle.
“Jack, Mimi tried her hardest. She truly did. But I was watched like a hawk up until the wedding. I was…seventeen. Almost eighteen.
“I had my reservations, my doubts, my inclinations. I didn’t trust my heart because I was taughtnotto trust my heart or my feelings. I was only to trust the lessons I was taught and my “destiny”. I hope you won’t think horribly of me. Because I rose to the occasion. I worked so hard to be the perfect daughter. And Thaddeus…he was very good.”
I stiffen, my hold on her neck turning to a firm grip.
“Oh, please, Jack, don’t think of me like that. I was young and stupid, and I didn’t—everyone was so happy for me. I was the belle of the ball. Thaddeus had wooed me, wined and dined me. He took me on romantic walks and gave me gifts, all leading up to the wedding. He acted like a perfect ‘gentleman.’”
The loathing has grown in her last statement, implying just what type of gentleman he was.
“My wedding was the toast of the town. Mimi came for it. Shestayed close by. Oh, how I danced that night. I was rosy-cheeked with rose-colored glasses. But on the wedding night…the rose-colored glasses turned black.”
She lowers her head, tipping her brow onto my chest. A tremor shudders through her. I plant my hand against the base of her spine, holding her still, holding her strong. She shakes, and it takes all my resolve not to shake with her. She trembles with the memories and demons of her trauma. I tremble with a caged fury. One I will not hesitate to unleash if this….fucking pedophile comes near my Belle.
“I don’t want to talk about what happened that night. Except for how he told me that the courting period and the wedding were mine. But the wedding night…apparently, it was my duty to undress before him and let him do whatever he wanted to me. Like I was a present and a prize. Mimi told me it was rape. It took years for me to acknowledge and process that. Because I pretended it wasn’t. Because how could it be when he was myhusband? But I turned eighteen a week later. And Mimi found me in the woods…cutting myself. Oh, god, Jack…please, you must think?—”
Keep going, Belle. I will share my thoughts with you presently. You deserve to finish your story without worrying about what I think and believe.
