The Soul of a Storme by Sookoo Sandra

Author:Sookoo, Sandra
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Romance, Historical
Publisher: Dragonblade Publishing, Inc.
Published: 2021-06-02T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

Sarah made certain to lock her door before she leaned her back against the heavy oak panel, covered her face in her hands, and sobbed out her angst so hard her whole body heaved. What the hell was wrong with him? Through her tears, she glanced about the room, but thankfully, she was alone. The maid who’d been assigned to her wasn’t in attendance, for she—like everyone else no doubt in the house—would have assumed she’d spend the wedding night out of this suite.

When had anything ever gone the way she wished?

It had been wicked and this side of sinful to let a man she barely knew do such… things to her, but oh, he had a certain skill. Too bad the act had gone so fast and had been so shameful. He’d humiliated her! The earl had treated her like a prostitute, hadn’t bothered to take her virginity with any sort of gallantry or tenderness, never took the time to initiate her into intercourse so she wouldn’t have felt like such a green girl. If that was what relations between them would be going forward, she wanted no part of it.

“You can pluck an heir out of the damn garden for all I care!” she yelled into the silence of her room. The light from a guttering candle on the nightstand sent anemic light through the darkened room. “I will not be disrespected by my husband again. Do you hear that, Andrew?”

She hoped that he did. Tears continued to roll down her cheeks. Annoyed, she perched her spectacles on the top of her head and scrubbed at her cheeks. How unfortunate it was that when she was beyond incensed, she cried, for no doubt the earl thought he’d hurt her feelings when in reality she’d been enraged beyond all coherence. It had always been a flaw and something she was acutely aware of when people who hadn’t the sense God gave a goose talked down to her or embarrassed her, which her husband had done in spades.

If he couldn’t gain control of himself and stop bottling his emotions to the point that he was a slave to anxiety, she was done, completely done, with him.

Yet she’d married him and had pledged to help him if she could. Were his problems—demons as he’d called them—beyond his ability to conquer?

I’ve been foolish. She’d known better. Of course she had, but here she was, shaking with rage and humiliation because he’d bedded her in a way she hadn’t considered nor been prepared for. Hot saliva filled her mouth, and she swallowed several times to stave off the urge to retch.

“This was a horrible mistake,” she whispered into the quiet.

Oh, dear Lord. Sarah bolted over the floor. She fumbled about in the cupboard beneath the nightstand for the chamber pot and barely grasped it in time to catch the contents of her stomach as she cast up her accounts. Andrew had used her for his own pleasure and devices, hadn’t given her

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