“Tiernan—” I start to protest, but when he turns around to face me, all my objections to him being here die a quick death on the tip of my tongue.
My hands fasten on to my robe’s waist belt, clutching at it to have something to do with my hands while my husband just stares in my direction. I swallow the boulder-sized lump in my throat as he walks over to the bed and sits on its edge, his impressive muscular back turned away from me.
“Come here.”
Unlike earlier when I refused to drink his whiskey, I heed to the sternness in his voice and do as he commands. I’m not keen on finding out what he would do if I refused him again. At least not tonight. On feather-light feet, I slowly walk over to him, bracing myself for whatever he has in mind. I stop just a few inches away from him.
“Closer.”
With my back ramrod straight, I take another step his way.
“Closer,” he repeats, the chill of his tone only increasing my nervous state.
Not that I let him see it.
I tilt my chin up and walk to him until his knees graze my legs.
When Tiernan’s gaze remains fastened on my waist, I realize that my hands are strangling my belt’s knot. I quickly lower my arms to my sides and straighten my spine. This earns me a smile.
“I think we can do better than that,” he taunts, widening his legs before pulling my belt in one hard tug until I’m standing in between his legs.
“Why are you still here, Tiernan?” I ask, not wanting to stretch out this little game of cat and mouse. “I’m tired, and I would very much like to go to sleep now.”
“Hmm,” he hums, the illicit sound bringing with it a dark undercurrent of desire I don’t want to feel or focus too much on. “You’ll get your sleep,” he adds. “But first, it’s time I’m paid my due.”
I’m so perplexed by what he could possibly mean by that vague remark that on reflex my jaw slightly falls open. But just as quickly as it does, it also shuts back into place when Tiernan’s hands begin to slowly rake up my legs from behind until they reach the back of my thighs. My teeth hurt from the force of keeping them shut, but the discomfort is preferable to the mortification I’d feel if he heard the wanton sigh that his touch provoked.
As my husband continues to rub his calloused palms up and down my thighs, fanning the flames I desperately want to extinguish, he tilts his head up until his intense gaze collides with mine.
“Tell me, Rosa, what exactly were you thinking when you decided to dance with my brother earlier tonight?”
What?
My astonishment must be clearly stitched on my face because he lets out a sardonic exhale when I don’t respond quick enough.
“Did you forget already?” he asks, almost sounding bored, as if his hands rubbing on my feverish skin had no effect on him whatsoever.
“I don’t understand the question,” I respond, thankful my voice comes out sounding just as detached as his.
“Then let me simplify it for you. The first dance of the bride should always be given to her groom. It’s his right as her lawfully-wedded husband, and you stole that privilege from me by offering it to my brother. You don’t strike me as a woman who easily breaks tradition. Especially for a man you haven’t said more than two words to. Therefore, there must have been a reason you accepted Shay’s offer to dance. Naturally, I’m curious.” His domineering gaze sparks with a gleam of said curiosity.
I bite down on my bottom lip to keep the truth of my actions from spilling out of me. Not that my brother-in-law has earned any such fierce loyalty from me with one little dance. But then again, neither has my husband, for that matter. The only thing that stops me from confessing why I chose to dance with Shay is that I take no comfort in being cruel for cruelty’s sake. I’ve seen how the Kellys suffered in silence today at the absence of their daughter and sister, and I, for one, will not use her memory to justify my actions nor use it to stab at the open wound they all share.
If there is one Kelly that deserves my loyalty, then it’s her.
Since she and I are the same.
Two women sacrificed in the name of peace.
Two women now at the hands of their enemies.
“Well, Rosa? Will you not satisfy my curiosity? Was your reasoning for dancing with my brother based on pure boredom, or was it intentionally done to hurt me?”
“Can a man like you even get hurt?”
He shakes his head with a haughty, thin grin, his piercing eyes glued to mine, his fingers digging into my skin.
“No. Only the image I wish to uphold can.”