Page 59 of Her Dark Seduction
Chapter 18
As the year drew to a close I settled into life as a peasant. The work was hard, harder even than it would have been at Mortlock had I undertaken the full duties as chatelaine. The skills I’d been born for were of no use here. The physical labor made my body ache and blistered my hands, but I was grateful for the occupation which diverted my mind and eased the pain in my heart.
Since his outburst, my husband resumed his uncaring manner. I treated him with indifference, though the easy affection he showed Jack and Lily tore through my heart. To see him capable of such feelings made me love him all the more. I ached for him to bestow even a portion of that affection onto me. Though Jack and Lily were kind, their manner toward me held little true affection. In turn I treated them coldly, only giving my feelings free rein during the snatched moments of solitude in the room I shared with my husband.
Most nights he was absent, and I dared not ask where he went. He discussed de Beauvane, whoever he might be, with his brother. Occasionally Lord Mortlock’s name was mentioned, followed by pointed glances in my direction. He forbade me to leave the house. Someone was looking for me but whether they were connected to Mortlock seeking revenge or the king looking for the traitor’s widow he didn’t say.
The few nights he spent in my bed he took me with a soulless passion before turning his back and falling asleep. Each morning I descended the stairs, flushing with shame at the cries of pleasure he had elicited from me, cries which Jack and Lily must have heard.
We had come full circle, returning to the routine at Mortlock where he used my body to quench his lust then withdrew as if I did not exist. But this time it tested my limits of endurance, for now I loved him.
One afternoon on seeing Vane embrace his sister-in-law, a smile lighting up his beautiful blue eyes, I could stand it no longer and left the room, claiming fatigue. In Jack and Lily’s house I saw the realization of my dream—a loving family, tending to each other—working, laughing together. How I longed to be part of it!
Alone in our chamber I retrieved Tarvin’s letters, frayed at the edges where the water from my swim at Mortlock had almost destroyed them. Reading the words that were distinguishable and remembering those that were not, I cursed aloud at the unfairness of it all, that the man I loved displayed not one fraction of the tender feelings which those written words evoked.
I looked up to see Vane watching me, his gaze dropping to the letters in my hands. I interrupted his enquiry by slamming the door in his face, telling him I hated him, wanting to hurt him as much as he was hurting me. Having him so near was unbearable, knowing he cared so little. Shutting him out should have numbed my feelings but it only served to increase the pain in my heart.
Lily and I managed the house during the day while Jack toiled in his workshop making and repairing barrels. He employed two apprentices, and his business prospered. Lily worked as a seamstress and with my limited needlework skills I helped her a little. They were a relatively wealthy couple compared to the rest of the villagers, but I had no wish to be a burden to them and was determined to earn my keep. However, as I grew larger with the child I became increasingly tired and Lily would often shoo me upstairs mid-afternoon to rest before we prepared the evening meal.
One such afternoon I woke, screaming from another nightmare. Their frequency had lessened, but this one was different. The fire was ever present but Vane and Lily had emerged from the flames, locked in a passionate embrace before calling me a whore and pulling me into the fire. The door burst open and Lily ran in, but I screamed at her to leave me be, pushing her away as she approached the bed. I felt nothing but anger and jealousy toward her. She had taken me in with reluctance and treated me with kindness, but no real affection; my husband directed his smiles at her while he turned away from me.
I spent the evening in my room, listening to the voices downstairs, the deep timbre of Vane’s voice punctuated by something I’d never heard from him before—laughter.
When he came into our room, I squeezed my eyes shut, pretending to be asleep as he crawled into bed smelling of ale. I bit back the urge to ask if he’d been wenching as well as drinking.
He was gone by morning. Hunger overcame my embarrassment, and I went to the kitchen, in search of something to eat. Lily sat alone, concentrating on her sewing, a pile of bandages and cloths on the table in front of her, along with my jar of salve. A pot of porridge simmered over the fire and my stomach grumbled in protest. Uncertain of my welcome I backed away, mumbling an apology, but she waved me over, holding out her hands. I reached out hesitantly, and she took my hands, turning them over to expose the blisters on my palms.
“How long have you had these?”
“Shortly after I arrived.”
She sighed in exasperation as if I were a troublesome child, before reaching for the bandages.
“He was right; they need to be bound. Sit down.”
She opened the jar and sniffed the contents.
“How much of this do I need?”
“Just a little.”
“Forgive me,” she said as I winced when her fingers brushed against a blister, “I should have realized you’d be unused to work.”
The insult hit home.
“I cannot help my upbringing, Lily, nor can I help being in a situation where the skills I possess have little use. I have no wish to inconvenience you. Vane should not have brought me here.”
“Perhaps he shouldn’t have married you. Why did he?”
“That’s his concern,” I said, controlling my anger. “If he loves you as a sister I wonder he has not told you.”
“Why did you accept him?”
“I had no choice.”
“There’s always a choice,” she scoffed, securing a knot in the bandage.
I thanked her and rose to serve myself a bowl of porridge but she took my wrist.
