I swallowed.
Frey kept talking.
“No nobleman would take any woman against her will. If he does, he is not noble and will be stripped of his banner and the protection of his House. But I did not take her against her will. I enjoyed her and she enjoyed me –”
That was when I lifted my hand and whispered, “Stop talking.”
He shook his head and pushed away from the door, saying, “You must understand this, wife.”
“I understand,” I took a step back as he started advancing. “I totally get it. You can stop talking.”
Frey kept advancing while he kept speaking. “There are men who pledge to honor their wives and they do, because their wives give them reason.” I moved backward as he kept coming at me. “It could be you give me that reason and we grow into this type of marriage,” he stated and I kept retreating as he kept moving toward me.
And I did this staring at him in shock and, I had to admit, not a small amount of despair.
Grow into that type of marriage?
“But what I do, Finnie and who I do it with is none of your concern, be she servant or duchess. I’m explaining this to you patiently so the next time you learn of something like this, you won’t show me the same disrespect you did at your table with your parents, speaking not one word to me and withholding your eyes from mine.”
The next time?
I hit wall and Frey hit me, his body in my space, his big hands spanning my waist, his head tipped down so his eyes could hold mine prisoner.
“You…” I started, cleared the frog that was all of a sudden in my throat and kept going, “just last night, you told me the measure of a man is how he cares for his bride.”
His brows knitted and he agreed, “I did.”
“So,” I whispered, “what does it say about a man who dumps his bride in a filthy cabin, leaves her there to fend for herself, comes back and shows her gentleness and kindness, which, incidentally, she practically has to beg for then brings her home to a palace only to make her sit at a table and watch while his ex-lover serves him food? Tell me Frey, what measure is that of a man?”
His fingers tensed into my flesh and he whispered back, “I thought we’d come to an understanding, you and I, about what was past and what we were moving toward in our future.”
“I did too,” I replied. “But apparently, I was wrong.”
Really wrong.
Heartbreakingly wrong.
His hands slid up to rest under my ribs and they again tensed when he started, “Finnie –”
But I cut him off. “You left Finnie back at your hunting cabin, Frey. I’m Princess Sjofn here to you. But, make no mistake, husband, you left her back there. I was willing to bring her with us but she is now gone.”
His eyes flashed and his hands slid up to span my ribs as he growled, “Wife.”
“Careful of your hands, Frey,” I whispered, “a nobleman doesn’t take a woman against her will.”
That gained me another flash before he stated, “I see, you have a tantrum about me bedding a servant at the same time you threaten to withhold from me. Does that make sense to you?”
“Absolutely,” I replied. “Because earlier this evening, you walked in on me, hurt about what I’d learned about you and that you were the kind of man who felt free to humiliate me in my own home. Then not an hour later, you further humiliated me at the same time you rubbed my nose in precisely what was injuring me. For five days, you stopped at nothing to convince me you are a kind man, a thoughtful man and a gentle man but I know I should never forget what my father drilled into my head for years and years and that is that first impressions never lie and you may command the power of elves and dragons, but you are none of those kinds of man.”
His eyes flashed again and, if I read them right, he seemed even more pissed than before.
In fact, infuriated.
“Tell me you jest,” he rumbled and that was when my brows knitted.
“Why on earth would I jest about that?”
His fingers dug into my ribs and his face dipped so close he was the only thing I could see.
“Was it you I humiliated, Finnie? Am I treated to this behavior from you tonight due to your injury?”
I held my breath and stared in his eyes.
Good God? Did he know I wasn’t Sjofn?
He couldn’t know. There was no possibility.
Could he?
I held his eyes and he held mine unblinking but he looked strangely like he was waiting for me to say something.
When I didn’t, suddenly Frey let me go, turned and stalked to the door, saying, “Prior to joining Viola who I know will gladly give me what I should be getting from my wife, I’ll send her up with something for your stomach.”
That stomach contracted physically, my back pressing against the wall as if I’d suffered a physical blow.
He opened and stepped out the door but stopped, turned and seared me with one of his ferocious scowls that I’d forgotten could be so terrifying.
“Sleep well, wife,” he called.
Then he was gone.
Chapter Fifteen
We Women Carry Many Burdens
A week and a half later…
I watched my arrow fly over the huge target and get stuck in the trees beside the Palace.
I bit my lip and slowly turned my eyes to my Dad to see his eyes were pointed in the direction of where my arrow landed and his shoulders were slumped.
I’d disappointed him.
Again.
Crap.
“I seem to…” I hesitated when his gaze came to me and it did it before he could fully hide the disappointment and my heart wrenched, “pull up right before I let go.” I finished.
Yeah, pull up, and to the side, and one time down so the arrow embedded in the turf five feet in front of the target.
“Indeed, daughter,” he muttered, sighed and stated, “Why don’t we finish for today?”
He jerked his chin at a boy standing close who came forward hurriedly to take my bow and I pulled the quiver that was strapped across my chest over my head and handed it to him with a smile.
Then I looked at the target that had three of my arrows in it, none of them in any of the lines and another boy was rushing around gathering arrows but he was rushing around behind the target.
I sucked at archery. Totally. Playing it on Wii did not set you up for the real thing.
And Sjofn obviously didn’t and my Dad was obviously proud of her skill.
“I seem to have lost my touch,” I muttered to Dad.
He put a hand to my elbow and started to lead me through the snow to the side door of the Palace.
“Yes, this is what it seems,” he muttered back.
“How about we come back out tomorrow?” I asked, forcing brightness in my tone and I watched him turn his head to me.
And that was when I saw what I saw more than once when I was with him – a weird kind of sorrow that hurt to see. I didn’t get it but it was definitely there. Maybe it was a father’s natural reaction as he was coming to terms with his daughter getting married and moving on to another man in her life. But it didn’t seem like that. And it got stronger every time we came out and tried this archery business and we’d been out four days in a row.
I’d been super excited when he’d approached me and asked if I’d like to go out and shoot arrows. First, I wanted to shoot arrows, I’d never done that before except on a video game (which obviously didn’t count). Second, I wanted to spend time with my Dad and the last week, Dad had seemed hesitant and distant with me so I jumped at the chance.