Though his voice trailed off, his meaning rang clear. But I can’t stand her. I empathized.
“Yes, sir.”
“Go and fetch her, then. I shall be in my study, preparing for evening Mass.”
She wasn’t in our room.
Or the washroom.
Or the Tower.
Or the entire cathedral.
I was going to strangle her.
I’d told her to stay. I’d presented the reasons—the perfectly rational, easily understandable reasons—and still she’d disobeyed. Still she’d left. And now who knew what foolish antics she was up to—foolish antics that would reflect back on me. A husband who couldn’t control his own wife.
Furious, I sat at my desk and waited. Mentally recited every verse I could on patience.
“Be still before the Lord, and wait patiently for him; do not fret over those who prosper in their way, over those who carry out evil devices.”
Of course she’d left. Why wouldn’t she? She was a criminal. An oath meant nothing to her. My reputation meant nothing to her. I sat forward in my chair. Pressed my palms against my eyes to relieve the building pressure in my head.
“Refrain from anger, and forsake wrath. Do not fret—it leads only to evil. For the wicked shall be cut off, but those who wait for the Lord shall inherit the land.”
But her face. Her bruises.
I have many enemies.
Surely being my wife couldn’t be worse than that? She would be cared for here. Protected. Treated better than she deserved. And yet . . . a small, grim voice in the back of my mind whispered that perhaps it was good she had gone. Perhaps this solved a problem. Perhaps—
No. I had made a vow to this woman. To God. I would not forsake it. If she wasn’t back in another hour, I’d go out and find her—ransack the city if I must. If I didn’t have my honor, I didn’t have anything. She would not take that from me. I wouldn’t allow it.
“Well, this is a fun surprise.”
I jerked my head up at the familiar voice. Unexpected relief swept through me. Because there, leaning against the doorjamb and grinning, stood my wife. Her arms were crossed against her chest, and beneath her cloak, she wore—she wore—
“What are you wearing?” I shot up from my chair. Stared determinedly at her face and not . . . elsewhere.
She looked down at her thighs—her very visible, very shapely thighs—and parted her cloak farther with the brush of her hand. Casually. As if she didn’t know what she was doing. “I believe they’re called pants. Surely you’ve heard of them—”
“I—” Shaking my head, I forced myself to focus, to look anywhere but her legs. “Wait, what surprise?”
She strode farther into the room, trailing a finger down my arm as she passed. “You’re my husband now, dear. What sort of wife would I be if I couldn’t speak your language?”
“My language?”
“Silence. You’re well versed in it.” After tossing aside her cloak, she threw herself down on the bed and stuck a leg up in the air to examine it. I glared at the floor. “I’m a fast learner. I’ve only known you a few days, but I can already interpret the very angry, slightly doubtful, and frankly worried silence you’ve been fretting in all morning. I’m touched.”
Refrain from anger. I unclenched my jaw and glared at the desk. “Where were you?”
“I went out to get a bun.”
Forsake wrath. I gripped the back of the chair. Too hard. The wood bit into my fingertips, and my knuckles turned white. “A bun?”
“Yes, a bun.” She shucked off her boots. They hit the floor with two dull thuds. “I overslept the matinee—probably because someone woke me up at the ass crack—”
“Watch your mouth—”
“—of dawn.” She stretched leisurely and fell back against the pillows. Sharp pains shot up my fingers from my grip on the chair. I took a deep breath and let go. “A page boy brought me a rather unfortunate dress this morning—one of the maids’， with a neckline up to my ears—to wear until someone could make it to market. No one had exactly made it a priority, so I charmed the kid into giving me the coin the Archbishop left for my wardrobe and took the liberty of purchasing it myself. The rest will be delivered this evening.”
Dresses. To purchase dresses—not this unholy creation. This pair of trousers looked nothing like the grubby pair she’d worn before. She’d obviously had these tailored with the Archbishop’s coin. They fit her like a second skin.