Total pages in book: 208
Estimated words: 209645 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1048(@200wpm)___ 839(@250wpm)___ 699(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 209645 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1048(@200wpm)___ 839(@250wpm)___ 699(@300wpm)
But as I flipped my fin and glided toward the shore (dipping to swim deep on occasion), I could not deny that having this, having Aramus go so far out of his way to give me this, did not put a chink in that armor.
A wee one.
But it was there all the same.
That was, I felt that until I surfaced closer to shore and noted a lone figure standing where I left my nightclothes on the sandy beach.
A figure I knew was my husband.
I kept my fin carefully beneath the surface, and as the area between the sand and sea became narrower, the resultant prickle down my back became a slight burn in my hips all the way to the end of me, which led to a tearing sensation that caused me to gasp.
And again, I had legs.
I stopped flipping and struck out swimming toward shore.
In the shallows, when I could swim no more, nude, I stood and slowly walked through the lapping waves toward my husband.
He stood immobile in the moonlight, watching me.
We had now been married many months.
And this was the first time he’d seen me naked.
I did not wish to wonder if he liked what he saw.
But I wondered if he liked what he saw.
I stared at his face in the moonlight as I made way toward him and noted he was carrying the long sheet of toweling I’d brought to dry off when I was done.
And as I got closer, I could not tell if he enjoyed the view for his expression was naught but a frozen mask of fury.
A mask with eyes that were locked on my face.
Many months of marriage, and I could not say I knew him.
What I could say was that his temper was quick, and when he was in the grips of it, what came from his mouth could be cruel.
But he was all words and bluster.
Thus, I was not afraid. At least not physically.
I stopped before him and said, “Husband.”
I barely finished the word when he moved, far faster than I would ever imagine he could, and I was wound in the toweling in a manner my arms and legs were immobilized.
I was then tossed over his shoulder.
“Aramus!” I snapped.
“I would be quiet, wife,” he replied, his deep voice cold as the water at the poles.
Oh drat.
I decided it might be best to do as he suggested and have this out in our tent. I even managed to keep my silence when we made our encampment some ways away, up high on the shoreline, and I saw all his men awake and milling about the sand.
All of them.
And there were hundreds of them.
They looked as peeved as my husband.
It occurred to me then that Aramus woke to find me gone. It also occurred to me what he would do if he found me gone.
That being, he would look for me, and when he did not find me (for I was frolicking under the sea), he would wake his men to aid in the search.
This he very clearly did.
Oh dear.
Obviously, someone had spotted me swimming to shore, or found my clothing, and Aramus had sent them back to camp while he, alone, knowing I was swimming nude, waited for me.
Fortunately, he didn’t loiter on the beach with his men but carried me directly into our tent.
Once inside, he put me instantly to my feet.
I struggled with the toweling until I had my arms free.
I clutched it to my chest, turned angry eyes up to his face…
And clamped my mouth shut tight.
For his enraged face was an inch from mine.
“Have you lost your mind!” he roared at me.
In the face of such fury, to save him from himself (and, frankly, me from whatever might come out of his mouth), I immediately became soothing. “Aramus.”
“By the sirens, Ha-Lah. By the bloody sirens, woman!”
“If you’d—”
He moved back but an inch so he could get his finger in my face.
“I woke, you were gone,” he bit. “I searched, you were nowhere to be found.” He dropped his finger. “I roused the entire fucking camp, and no one could find a hint of you, but your bloody…fucking…clothes.”
I stared at his furious face.
And saw the fear behind his eyes.
And suddenly there was no armor around my heart.
It was gone.
In but an instant…
Vanished.
By Medusa.
My husband had fallen in love with me.
“My king,” I whispered.
“Do you have any sirens-damned clue what ran through my head?” he asked.
I had a feeling I did.
It was exceptionally horrible.
And I was sorry for it.
“Please, allow me—”
“And you were fucking swimming,” he clipped.
I pressed my lips together, hard.
Yes, one thing I knew about my husband, when he was angry, he needed to let it out.
“Did it once occur to you to wake your fucking husband and share you’d like a moonlit dip?” he demanded.
When he paused long enough I thought he might actually wish my answer, I opened my mouth, but he spoke yet again.