Claim (Deridia Book 5) by Catherine Miller

Author:Catherine Miller [Miller, Catherine]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-05-10T04:00:00+00:00

10. Confess

By any Marzon standard, Rook utilising the bond to push warmth and comfort toward his wife would be frowned upon. Later, when they were more naturally attuned, when the ebb and flow between them was so well established that it could not be helped, none could possibly censure him.

But now, when it was most fragile, most dormant aside from his reluctant approaches, he should let her be.

Even... even when she suffered.

When she worried and tensed though it was needless, when the longing in her was greatest for some sort of respite, yet she could not force her body to submit and relax.

And so he... helped.

And the guilt was there, yes, but an immense satisfaction as well when she at last relented, her body moulding to his.

It was so very peaceful, and with a shy peek at the bond, he relaxed all the more when he saw that the feeling was, at last, mutual.

Her time with Adelmar had evidently been a productive one, as she had not been bound by the same measure of fear and mistrust as had held her for the entirety of their acquaintance. He could not tell her that, could not hurt her in such a way, that when she had first asked him what he’d imagined of his wife, what came to the forefront of his mind was that she would like him. Would not quake and tremble if he made a gesture too quickly, that she doubted every attempt at affection as if he would bring pain instead.

He could not blame her for it. Every glimpse at the Yarrow’s ways made it abundantly clear that a male could rule his home however he saw fit, and too many thought that discipline should include using pain to meet their aim.

It was wrong. So very wrong. And Sladec had assured him that Adelmar knew to tell her so.

And that he should simply live it. Each day. In every word, every touch, he would show her that her previous treatment was a wretched thing. That she should expect his respect, his affection, and should not be content with anything less.

She felt so delicate, yet filled his arms. She was surprisingly soft, the swell of hip just beneath his forearm, the slim torso that was currently covered by the thick shawl he had placed over her shoulders.

Her thoughts quieted, and he leaned forward, noting that her eyes were heavy as they stared into the flames. It was little wonder, as she had been so ill just the day before. He did not want to move, not for all the world, but she would be more comfortable, he was sure, if she had a proper rest upon the bed. He was weary himself, having spent far too long awake, plagued by his own thoughts.

And memories that were not his own.

“Should we rest a while?” he asked, his voice low and gentle so as best not to startle her.

She blinked, and he did not need the bond to see that she was barely conscious.

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