Page 21 of Arranged Wolf's Nanny
She stood rooted to the ground, unsure what to say, what to eventhink. Of course, she knew what marriage entailed. Knew what occurred between a husband and wife on their wedding night. But in the maelstrom of the past week, she hadn’t had time to think about it, to begin to imagine it.
Perhaps she had been purposefully avoiding the thought. Ducking away and hiding from it, far too overwhelmed to open the gates to the flood of emotions that would no doubt follow.
She had never come close to kissing a male, let alone…
It was at times like these that she yearned for her mother. Not only for the comforting embraces and knowing words, but also for the reassurance that the woman who had come before her had not only survived, but thrived.
Of course, she did not have that reassurance, only the gaping void of her mother’s absence. And an untraversed bridge she would have to cross alone.
“I will make him happy, Father. I promise.”
Her father grunted, looking her up and down. “I dare say you will. If he hurts you, don’t scream. He may be the sort of male who abhors histrionics, but besides, behavior like that is undignified.”
More undignified than hurting someone?
She wanted to rage at her father. Wanted to scream. The edges of her vision blurred, and she recognized her wolf taking over.
With a deep, calming breath, she forced it to retreat. And her wrath ebbed away with it.
“Come,” her father said. If he had noticed her momentary lapse in control, he did not comment on it. After all, he had already won his battle.
She followed after him like a woman condemned. Whatever spirit she’d gathered in that sunlit grove had already bled into the dirt.
Chapter 6 - Rick
Only Eva’s presence at the reception had stopped Rick from getting roaring drunk. It was bad enough that her whole life was being turned on its head; she didn’t need a volatile, half-drunk father on top of everything else.
But Eva was gone now, spending the night with Felix and Cassie, all the children of the inner circle enjoying a sleepover at the alpha’s house after such excitement.
His friends were there too, no doubt enjoying a cold whiskey.
God, he wished he could be with them, and not…here. Alone in his house with his unwanted bride.
As soon as he strode through the door, he stripped away the blades and weapons of his ceremonial armor, letting them clatter to the floor and echo through the dark manor.
Rosalia squeaked in shock behind him, but he didn’t apologize. The damn girl had been on a razor’s edge the entire car ride home, her muscles tense, her jaw set. He was half afraid she’d shift there and then in his Bentley. He’d almost suggested a run through the forest just to let her blow off some steam. He didn’t want some emotionally unstable stranger tearing up his house in the middle of the night after one fright too many.
In the end, however, he couldn’t bring himself to speak to her. Didn’t trust himself to at least act like a gentleman. None of this was her fault, after all. Just her leering, sadistic father’s. John Heath was well on his way back to Pennsylvania, and good damn riddance to him.
It occurred to him as he turned to look at her that, were circumstances different, she would be exactly the sort of femalehe’d choose for his wife. Dignified, elegant, intelligent. She even had ties to the European clans, making her exactly the sort of caliber he would look for.
She was certainly beautiful in a striking, regal way. The traditional green gown seemed like a second skin against her lithe form, her sharp cheekbones and deep mossy eyes lending her sophistication an edge of wildness one could expect of a thoroughbred shifter. But the problem was, she was just that. A pretty thing for him to look at. No substance behind the facade. At least, none she seemed willing to show him.
She had revealed cracks in her interactions with Eva. A hint of genuine emotion, warmness, andpersonalitythat seemed like the sun peeking through the gray clouds of her usual temperament.
There was anger there, too. And fear. Oh yes, he could smell both, no matter how much she tried to suppress it. His little wife was a wild thing at heart, he suspected. Too bad her bastard of a father had cowed her into complete submission.
Not that Rick particularly cared. It wasn’t like he would be spending any amount of time with the girl, no matter how pretty she was to look at.
“Come,” he said, jaw clenching at the naked fear on her face.
Christ, this was going to be exhausting.
She followed him up the stairs, her eyes catching on every ornament, every painting, every feature of his home, eyes wide as she took it all in. There was awe in her gaze, a healthy amount of trepidation too, especially as she lingered over the more violent depictions of his family’s legacy.
“Your room will be in the East Wing,” he said as he stalked ahead, not bothering to turn on any of the lights. They were both shifters, and they could see well enough. “My rooms and Eva’s are in the West Wing. You are free to decorate as you like. There is a lounge, study, and bathroom that will be yours to use as you please.”
Rosalia had hitched her skirts up, hurrying after him to keep pace with his stride.
