Ye review, I deliver. You guys are fantastic. Now that I'm back in the land of the living (I slept pretty much all day) I'm gonna update! Woot! 200 reviews!
Tiger Lily21: Thank you so much! I think you're an excellent writer yourself, and I always enjoy reading your stuff.
Areida Rivers: I try to keep the sister's pretty simple with a few distinguishing characteristics, just because ten fully developed characters would be way too hard. Jarrod's not a complete bone-head (most of the time) and I'm glad you like the necklace.
panemonium: I'm going to take that as a good comment! She's going to have a little trouble adjusting from the country to the city.Some of theother nobleswon't like it, but really, they know that they can't say anything to his face.
PrincessofRain: Hm. I don't know. I'm glad you liked it though.
nala: Thank you for all the suggestions! A lot of my plot has already been thought through in my head, but I might take some of the other things and use them. Your comments are really nifty, thank you! I'm actually from Western Canada. :c/
Sirenic Griffin: Ah! You're too smart for me! I totally laughed when I read your comment, it was great!
rainkisser: yay! I'm glad you liked that scene. I had it totally pictured in my head, and I was wondering if I got it across right. I'm glad I did. I haven't eaten cheese curds in, like, forever. I'm the only one who likes them, so my mom doesn't buy them a lot. This has been my favourite story to write so far. I love Fiona. She's my hero. I'm glad you like the dress. I think Jarrod liked it too. ;c) Oh, you're off by one! Poor you! Someone else sneaked in at the last moment! Here's the update for you!
cathrine5: Hee hee, yeah, I know. But I do have school, and some semblence of a life, so I can't really update all that often. Go Fiona!
awaiting impatient person: I really hope you like this chapter; there's some ravishing goin' on! Wee! I love your energy, don't ever lose it. Unfortunately, there might not be a honeymoon, for a couple reasons. One: Fiona's not ready to do the lovin' (which I think is a major part of a honeymoon) and Two: There is still someone out there who kinda wants to kill Jarrod. But all will be well I swear!
Glaze: Don't you just love that feeling? When a chapter is so sweet, you just feel all bubbly inside? I know I do.
fell4adeadguy: yay! Imagine what Fiona was feeling, with all that noise around her. But, maybe she's used to it.
anonymous: Thanks!
wishingIcouldthinkofsomething: I hope Fiona feels okay, but I have a feeling she going to get sofrustrated with her husband that she might end up beating him.
always belle: I know how that is. School is pretty crazy for me as well. I'm glad you like my story!
charmed: Thanks. :c)
little miss tiny shoes: Okay!Here's the wedding to sake your bloodlust! (just kidding!)
littlelambug: I tried to make it come out that way, like you couldn't even think straight because so many people are talking, and you only get a little glimpse into their conversations.
rootbeergirl19: Here it is! It's a little late because I was up until 6 this morning, and then slept until about noon, then ate lunch, then slept again until five. Then my sister was on the computer, but here it is!
Dragonblade Goddess: That's okay that you're not 200; every review counts. Jarrod has to many guards at his wedding for the assassin to even think about making an attempt. He's on top of things. :c)
Whoo, that's a lot of reviews. Thanks so much guys!
WARNING: I haven't gotten many (or any, for that matter)complaints about this, but just for my sake of mind, there is some, er, racy stuff later in the chapter. I'm still going to keep this strictly pg-13 (ie: no lemons) but my characters are very passionate people, so expect some sizzly stuff. If you're offended, don't say I didn't warn you.
I'll see you all next Saturday!
Lulai
Chapter Twenty: Wedding
"Are you completely sure about this?" Tyrell asked his brother as they stood at the front of the hall, awaiting the entrance of the bridal party.
"Sure about what?" Jarrod asked distractedly.
"About serving Karridon cheese at the banquet," Tyrell said sarcastically. "About marrying this girl, of course!"
Jarrod shrugged. "It's the only way to help her and her family."
"The only way?"
"Yes," Jarrod replied. "You know as well as I do the laws against loans. I'm not about to leave their family to the wolves."
"But to marry her?"
Warren walked up to them. "What seems to be the problem?" he asked.
"Nothing," Jarrod said casually.
Tyrell shook his head. "He's getting married, and he doesn't seem to care, that's the problem."
"Of course I care," Jarrod said.
Warren looked at him worriedly. "She is the first woman you've looked twice at since Belinda," he said. "Are you sure you want to do this?"
"What is the matter with you two?" Jarrod asked, anger creeping into his voice. "Just a few weeks ago you were practically commanding me to get a wife, and now that I am, you are both set against it. What do you want?"
Tyrell sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, a habit that seemed to be almost a family trait.
"I just want you to be sure about this," Tyrell said. "If you're doing it for her, or for you."
"What?" Jarrod asked.
"As long as you aren't just using her as a bed warmer."
Jarrod whirled on his brother furiously. "Is that what you think this is? That I'm just marrying her to get her in my bed?"
"She is very pretty," Tyrell said, "and from what you've told me, eternally loyal. It isn't a very difficult conclusion to reach."
"You're wrong," Jarrod said darkly, wondering why his normally intelligent brother was spouting such drivel.
"Am I?" Tyrell looked at him squarely. "Can you honestly tell me that you've never thought of Fiona in your bed?"
"Yes," Jarrod replied harshly. On the floor, against a wall, in the dirt even. But not yet in his bed. That would make the fantasy all to real, and as it was right now, one that wasn't going to happen for a while.
"You lie."
Jarrod had always thought himself a peaceful man, but he was very close to beating his brother within an inch of his life.
"God, Tyrell, I like her, okay?" he snarled. "Yes, I want her, but I also like her."
A small smile crept across Tyrell's face. "That's all I wanted to know."
Jarrod glared at his brother, but was interrupted from saying anything by the arrival of the Havara's.
"How many did you say there were?" Warren asked.
"There are ten sisters, two of them are married," Jarrod responded. "They also go alphabetically by name, if you're interested."
"We'd better be getting down there," Tyrell said, checking his watch. "It's almost four."
Jarrod nodded and they made their way up to the dais at the front of the hall.
"Here we go," he muttered to himself, and signalled for the ceremony to begin.
…
Fiona stood behind the doors to the hall, being overlooked by the portraits of all the past ruling monarchs. There were a mixture of serious and smiling couples, and a few singular monarchs, most of them male. Her eyes automatically went to the last one. It wasn't Jarrod; perhaps he hadn't had time yet to get his portrait done.
Instead, it was a husband and wife. They looked as though they were trying to go for a serious picture, but there were smiles playing about their mouths and eyes, as if they were sharing a private joke and were trying very hard not to laugh.
The woman was extraordinarily beautiful. She had long flowing honey blonde hair and deep green eyes that seemed to be almost trademark of the Drewery's. The man also had blond hair but his was a deeper straw colour. His eyes were a deep brown.
Around the woman's throat lay a necklace of aquamarine stones set in shining silver. Fiona's hand went involuntarily to her own neck.
These must be Jarrod's parents, Fiona thought with a start.
"Er, milady?" the guard asked her, breaking her reverie. "I think that was tha signal ta go in."
"Wha?" Fiona asked. "Oh, thank you." Her heart started beating double-time and the hands that gripped her teak roses suddenly became sweaty. This was it. Her last moments as Lady Fiona Fer Havara. Soon, she would be Queen Fiona Par Drewery.
Scary thoughts.
She heard chairs scrape against the floor as she entered the great hall. She kept her gaze about two feet in front of her as not to trip and make a complete idiot out of herself in front of everyone standing there.
If Fiona's heart was beating double, Jarrod's heart nearly stopped as soon as she stepped in the room. She was wearing a beautiful dress of turquoise. The gentle scoop of her neckline ran off her shoulders, a look she seemed to favour (of which Jarrod had no problem with), with tight sleeves ending in a point on the back of her hand. Bronze ribbon accented the neckline, the line around her hips, and her hem. A veil sprouted from the top of her bun to drag along with her train, also trimmed with bronze ribbon. His mother's jewels sparkled at her graceful throat and about her ears.
"For God's sake, breath man!" Tyrell whispered, giving his brother a nudge.
Jarrod took the hint and sucked some much-needed oxygen back into his lungs.
Fiona could feel all the eyes on her, although she only cared about one set. She couldn't seem to stop her eyes from travelling up onto the dais.
There couldn't be anyone more handsome in attendance than Jarrod was right then. He looked like one straight out of the Faerie Court. Only his standard clothing and the fact that Fiona herself stitched up his arm belied his mortal status.
Which only served to make Fiona nervous. Why did he choose her? She wasn't worthy of him. She wasn't wealthy, she wasn't high royalty, she wasn't even extraordinarily beautiful.
Oh, this is good, Fiona, she said to herself wryly, having doubts halfway down the aisle.
She looked back down at the floor, continuing forward at her stately pace. The length of the hall seemed to be forever, until she finally reached the platform. Jarrod offered her his arm, which she took.
She glanced at him shyly through her eyelashes and found that he was looking at her as well. His chocolate brown eyes were void of their usual sobriety; instead they were filled with something that made her stomach flutter. Something… warm.
"You look very lovely today," he murmured, as they made their way to the priest at the front.
"Thank you, so do you," she replied. She realised her error. "Uh, look handsome, I mean," she added on nervously.
They stopped and turned to face the priest. Jarrod reached and took her hand. She was a little self-conscious, as she knew her hand must feel clammy, but he held on firmly anyway. Fiona clenched Jarrod's hand tightly, and he gave her a gently reassuring squeeze. She could hear the chairs scrape again as everyone sat down.
"State your names and your intentions," the priest intoned.
"I, King Jarrod Fer Drewery, hereby declare my intentions to take this woman, Lady Fiona Fer Havara, as my legally wedded wife." Jarrod spoke loudly, so even though he was facing away from the crowd, they could still hear him.
The priest nodded, and turned to Fiona.
She took a deep breath and tried to calm her heart, which felt as though it was trying to escape her chest. "I, Lady Fiona Fer Havara, hereby declare my intentions to accept this man, King Jarrod Fer Drewery, as my legally wedded husband."
There was a slight murmur at that. Fiona realised she had not said the exact right words, being, 'to be his legally wedded wife,' but she really needed some type of control over this wedding, and to mention that he was hers just as much as she was his made her feel a little better.
The priest gave her what was for him a good glare. However, she knew that Jarrod wasn't insulted, as the corner of his mouth was tucked up in almost a grin.
"Who gives this woman into marriage?" the priest asked.
Annabelle stood. "I, Countess Annabelle Fer Havara, give this woman, Lady Fiona Fer Havara, into marriage."
The priest nodded. "Bring out the rings and the scroll."
Two small pageboys hurried forward, one carrying a large piece of parchment and an inkwell with a quill, the other a small velvet box.
Jarrod went first, taking the quill and signing the parchment that the boy set down on the small table designed specifically for that use. He held out his hand to Fiona, and she realised she was still wearing his seal. She pulled it off her finger and handed it to him. He pressed it into the ink and stamped it beside his name.
Fiona took the quill and placed it on the space for her name. This was her last chance to reconsider, but she knew that she had to go through with it. The reasons for this wedding were taking up the entire first row of the audience.
She signed her name.
"Our Mighty Creator," the priest intoned when she was done, "made everything from the Faerie Court to the earth that we till. But one of the most important creations was the joining of a man and a woman. A ring signifies this special bond, in that its band is never ending. Neither shall their love end."
Jarrod took Fiona's hand and slid the ring that the boy passed to him onto her third finger. Fiona gasped. It was beautiful, and looked awfully expensive. It was a light purple stone, an amethyst, set in a smooth silver band.
Likewise, she took his hand and slid the ring she had purchased onto his finger. It was a simple gold band with etching lightly across the outside. It was simple and plain; he was extremely pleased that she had picked the perfect for ring for him.
She finished sliding the ring onto his finger and he held her hand firmly in his.
The priest clapped his hands together and bowed to them. "In the eyes of God," he said, "and by the law of Protantia, you are now husband and wife. May I present King Jarrod Fer Drewery and his wife, Queen Fiona Par Drewery. You may kiss your bride."
Fiona's eyes widened. She had completely forgotten about the final part of the ceremony. She had to kiss him in front of all these people, her family, and everyone?
Jarrod's lips pressed against hers, cool and firm, and she closed her eyes to savour the moment. It was gone before she could even bask in it for a second. Thunderous applause greeted them as they turned from the front and made their way into the dining hall.
Fiona gasped as they entered the grand dining hall. No expense had been spared. The walls were lined with gauzy fabric of soft blue hues, illuminated by a wealth of wax candles. The table was so laden with food that Fiona was surprised it didn't collapse in on itself.
"My lady," Jarrod murmured to her as he pulled back her chair to let her sit down. She gathered up the leagues of fabric behind her and sat down in a rustle of taffeta.
"Thank you," she said shyly to her new husband. Her husband!
"I didn't know what you would want, so I made a little of everything," Jarrod admitted.
"It looks wonderful," Fiona said truthfully, her mouth already watering at the smell of all the food. She dug in heartily.
"Whoever your cook is," she said after finishing a second helping of roast duck with a particularly delicious gravy, "you must give them a raise."
"Consider it done," Jarrod said, the corner of his mouth tucking up. He hadn't seen that dimple in a while, and he realised how much he missed it. She had been so nervous through the entire ceremony, he felt for sure that she was about to bolt. But now she was chatting pleasantly with his brother and cousin.
Fiona finally laid her fork and knife down on the plate.
"Done already?" Jarrod said, after he swallowed another bite of lamb.
"I must save room for dessert if it's anything as good as dinner," Fiona said.
He signalled the cook for dessert. "I hope you don't have any lingering memories from your unpleasant experience."
"Lemon custard!" Fiona exclaimed as the dessert was laid before her. "I love lemon custard. It's my favourite dessert!"
"I know," Jarrod said with his half-grin. "You've told me before."
But Fiona was too engrossed in her dessert to even hear him.
"May I have this dance, your majesty?" Tyrell offered a hand to her.
"I'd be delighted. And please, call me Fiona. After all, we're almost brother and sister," Fiona said. She removed her veil and left it on the chair.
Tyrell walked her over to the dance floor where the other couples were whirling in their brightly coloured dresses and somber suits.
"Are you enjoying yourself?" he asked.
"Immensely," she responded, her feet automatically adopting the four beat rhythm.
"I hope you are happy," he said. Fiona realised that he wasn't really talking about the party alone.
"I think I will be," she said seriously.
"Good." He smiled. "I think you'll make my brother happy." She nodded, extremely pleased at his compliment. Tyrell looked a lot like his brother. The same sandy blonde hair that liked to fall across their forehead. Same strong nose, same square chin. The only real difference was that Tyrell's eyes were slightly more hazel while Jarrod's were a deep chocolate brown.
The song ended, and they clapped politely for the musicians.
"Mind if I have the next dance?"
At the sound of the familiar deep voice, Fiona's heart started to pound. Tyrell handed her over graciously.
Jarrod swept Fiona into a dizzying waltz. He held her closer than was customary, but Fiona didn't mind. Truth be told, she enjoyed the tingle that ran through her at the brush of his thigh against hers and the incidental contact of their hips.
She realised she had a grin that stretched from ear to ear, but she couldn't seem to help herself. And when Jarrod swung her around so fast that her feet lifted off the ground, she threw back her head and laughed.
Her laugh startled him, and he found himself smiling along with her.
The dance ended and Fiona was still smiling, her eyes sparkling like silver.
"Thank you, my lord," she said.
"You can call me Jarrod," he said, kissing her palm. The act was oddly intimate, and Fiona blushed slightly.
"Alright, Jarrod," she said, and took his hand in another dance.
The party lasted well into the night and into the early morning, until very few of the people remained, mostly the bride and groom's families. Fiona was seated in a chair at the edge, a glass of punch in her hand, trying to stop her eyelids from drooping. Cassie and Bernadette gave each other a look.
"Your majesty," Bernadette addressed Jarrod. "Is there somewhere we may talk to our sister before we leave?"
"Of course," Jarrod said. "You can talk to her in her bedroom. I'm sure Vera here can show you the way."
The serving maid nodded and motioned them to follow her. Fiona stood up.
"In here, milady," Vera said softly, motioning. Fiona entered the room and gasped.
It was decorated in different shades of lilac. She had no idea how Jarrod knew, but somehow he did, just as he seemed to know everything. She wanted to jump onto her bed, but she was afraid of tearing her dress.
"You said you needed to talk to me?" Fiona asked her sisters, touching the desk, the coverlet on the bed, the doors to her wardrobe. This was all hers now.
Bernadette smoothed a hand over her round stomach and shared another look with Cassie.
"As we are the only married sisters, besides you of course," Bernadette began, "Annabelle decided that we would be the ones to give you your wedding night talk."
"Wedding night?" Fiona asked, stopping her inspection of her room to look at her sisters quizzically.
Cassie sighed and sat on the bed. "There are certain things your husband will expect and we don't want you to be frightened."
Fiona's cheeks were burning quite fiercely by that time. "I don't think I need to be told anything," she blurted out.
Her sisters gave her horrified looks. Fiona realised what that sounded like and if anything, turned even redder.
"I mean, we aren't going to be doing anything," she said, trying to pry her foot out of her mouth. "My marriage isn't like your marriage. You two married for love. I married for money." Her lips twisted wryly at that. She didn't realise how mercenary it sounded until she said it out loud.
She smiled at her sisters reassuringly. "We have a marriage of convenience. And Jarrod promised to wait until I was ready before we consummated anything."
"And when will you be ready?" Bernadette asked, casting a critical eye on her sister.
Fiona shrugged. "When I'm sure that he wants me for me. I'm not naïve enough to think that he'll fall head over heels, but I want to think that he would like me more than just as the mother of his heirs."
She yawned. "If you could help me undress, I think I'll go to bed. I'm dead tired."
Cassie nodded and helped her out of her gown and train. Fiona slipped on the nightgown that was laid out on her bed. It was white silk and felt oh-so-smooth on her skin. She couldn't resist running her hands over it.
She gave both her sisters a kiss. "Give everyone my love. I'll see them tomorrow."
"Good night, your majesty," Bernadette said.
"'Night, Fiona," Cassie said at the same moment.
"'Night," Fiona mumbled and climbed into bed.
Jarrod stood up from the table with his few remaining guests.
"We really should be getting home," Annabelle said, more to her sisters than to him.
"I thank you all for coming," he said politely, and meant it. "I think I see the other two of your party returning now."
Bernadette walked straight up to Jarrod, a woman on a mission.
"You treat her well," she commanded the king, shaking her finger at him, "or king or no, I'll have to come up here and do something I might regret."
"I would never mistreat Fiona," Jarrod said. "You have no need to worry."
Bernadette looked him up and down, sizing him up, and he didn't flinch away from her gaze. She finally nodded at him and let her husband escort her into the carriage.
Jarrod watched the Havara household depart towards the Turnbull residence, fading into the darkness of the city.
"Congratulations," Tyrell said to him, clapping him on the back as Jarrod headed towards the stairs and his bed.
"Thanks," Jarrod said sincerely, gripping Tyrell's hand affectionately.
"I supposed now you'll want us out of your hair," Tyrell said, "so you and your new wife can live here in peace."
"Nonsense," Jarrod scoffed. "This is yours and Warren's home as much as it is mine. I still might need you to run ambassador errands for me, but don't you ever think that I'm kicking you out of here."
"Thanks," Warren said softly. "That means a lot to me."
Warren's mother, Jarrod and Tyrell's aunt, was a spiteful old witch who first announced that Warren was a bastard, then kicked him out of the house so she could claim the title after her husband died. Jarrod's parents took Warren in (Jarrod's mother hated her sister, ever since they were little) and he had been part of their family ever since.
"I should be getting to bed. It's late," Jarrod said.
Tyrell winked at Warren, who grinned. "I'm sure he's real eager to get to bed. Well, don't let us stop you." They went off their own way, grinning ear to ear.
Jarrod resisted the urge to sigh. He really wasn't looking forward to sleeping in his empty bed, but he was tired. He entered his room and Robertson jumped up. He had apparently been waiting on Jarrod and had nodded off.
"Go get some sleep, Robertson," Jarrod said, dismissing him. "I'm a big boy. I can get ready for bed myself."
"As ye wish, yer majesty," his valet said, yawning and bowing. He closed the door quietly behind him.
Jarrod had just finished taking off his shirt when he heard a door open behind him.
"Excuse me, I was wondering if I could get a glass of wa- Jarrod?" Fiona stood in the doorway, clutching a pink wrapper tightly around her body. Pink didn't suit her hair. He made a mental note to get her a blue one, or maybe green.
"Yes?" he asked after a few minutes. Her mouth was hanging open slightly, and she had not moved since her exclamation.
She shook her head slightly, and her cheeks immediately went bright pink, noticeable even in the soft candlelight.
"I'm sorry," she apologised quickly. "I was going to go to sleep, but I found that when my head hit the pillow, I wasn't even tired anymore, so when I heard some people talking through the door, I thought that maybe there were some servants in the hall that I could ask for a glass of water, maybe some milk to help me sleep better, but I didn't know that this was your room, and I'm sorry to have caught you while you were, uh, dressing, and…" She seemed to run out of words at this point, and went back to staring at him.
"Well, we do have connecting rooms, for various purposes," Jarrod said. He walked a little closer to her, so that they could talk a little quieter.
"It was a lovely ceremony today," Fiona said nervously, trying to change the subject. Jarrod let her.
"I'm glad your entire family could make it on such short notice."
"Yes, although Annabelle had a few complains about that," Fiona said, gladdened by the change in topic.
"But your dress was very lovely. I'm glad Madame Geraldine was so accommodating." Although his mouth was having a conversation, his mind was busy thinking of ways to free her hair from that blasted bun. It had become almost an obsession with him. He wanted to run his fingers through it.
"Madame Geraldine was too busy," Fiona said, unaware of the turn Jarrod's thoughts had taken. "She had to send her assistant, Madame Lily."
"Nonetheless, your dress was very beautiful. I'm glad my mother's jewels matched it so perfectly."
"Yes," Fiona mumbled. She looked up at him, her eyes large and soft in the candlelight. "I know how hard it must have been to let anyone use them." She took a deep breath, as if deciding whether or not to tell him something. She seemed to decide in the positive because she said, "I remember when my parents first died, I stole a pillow from their bed and didn't let anyone touch it." Her face dropped away from his, obviously trying to control tears. "It was a few years before I could sleep without it."
"I understand," Jarrod said, placing his hands on her shoulders.
Fiona looked at him curiously. "Actually, I think you do. You always seem to understand me. Honestly, it's a little scary."
"I'm sorry to scare you," he said with a soft smile. He cupped her chin and his lips were on hers before he could stop himself. It was so natural, kissing Fiona; it was like breathing. He knew he shouldn't, but she tasted so sweet, and she made him forget himself for a while.
Fiona didn't want to touch him. She knew that as soon as she touched him, she'd be lost. She kept her hands clenched in her robe and tried to ignore the feelings that were causing her toes to curl in the lush carpet. She nearly succeeded, but then his tongue feathered out to caress the softness of her inner lower lip. With a sound somewhere between a sigh and a moan, she leaned into the kiss, welcoming his intimacy.
Jarrod deepened the kiss, and her hands went instinctively to his chest. Her wrapper fell open, but she didn't care. He was her husband, right? She had never been this close to a naked anything before, much less a man's chest. His skin was so warm under her fingertips, she couldn't help but run her hands over his broad shoulders.
He shuddered and dug his fingers into her hair, holding her head still as he plundered her mouth. Fuelled by the knowledge that she – plain old Fiona! – had been the reason for his shudder, she skimmed her fingers over the muscles of his back. He answered with a growl and pushed her wrapper off her shoulders. Now there was only a fine layer of silk separating his chest from her flushed skin.
It was pure abandonment on both their parts. Fiona had never felt so good, had never felt so right as when she was with Jarrod. Her body ached for him in a way she had never felt before, her nerves alive, sensitive to his every touch. Something cool and smooth hit her back.
Fiona didn't know how, but somehow he had manoeuvred them so that she was trapped between his body and the wall. Her breasts were crushed against his chest and he had thrust a thigh between her legs. His mouth had moved to her neck and she moaned something that vaguely resembled his name. But then he slid his hands under the straps holding up her nightgown, and Fiona panicked.
"Jarrod, wait!"
Jarrod stopped as if he had been doused with cold water. He wrenched himself away from her with difficulty, breathing hard.
"Jarrod?" Fiona called his name softly.
He looked up at her, standing there in her white silk nightgown, her lips swollen, her cheeks red from his whiskers, and, God help him, he wanted her again. Some of her hair had come out of its confinement to frame her face in wavy tendrils. It made her look like very sweet and innocent.
Mortification hit him like a punch in the groin. She was innocent. And, like the cad he was, he was taking advantage of that innocence. He had promised to help her, to not have relations until she was ready, and here he was seducing her at the first opportunity. Apparently, his fantasies were all too easy to make reality.
He opened his mouth, but she interrupted him, her brows drawn down in a frown. "If you apologise, I swear I will clock you one," she warned. She looked as though she meant it, too.
Laughter threatened to escape, but he managed to choke it back and keep his face calm. He wanted to do nothing but kiss that irritable look off her face. He loved her expressions.
The thought sent a shock wave through him. He couldn't fall in love with his wife. He had made himself a promise after Belinda never to lose his heart again. It was far too painful. If he ever became vulnerable to a woman again, he would have to be honest with her. And no one could love him after they learned the secret he kept guarded deep down inside. They would leave. Fiona would leave.
"Jarrod?" she asked again, sounding not nearly so sure as she did a moment before. "Please say something."
"I am glad that you were able to recover your senses in time," he said, in a voice that sounded cold even to his own ears. "It would have been most unfortunate for us if you hadn't."
Was it imagination, or did her face blanche at that? "We must be careful not to let it happen again." The words tasted like dirt in his mouth.
"Yes, of course," she said, averting her gaze.
"Are you still interested in that glass of water or milk?" he asked politely.
"No, I think I will just retire. Good night, Jarrod." She collected her wrapper off the floor and closed the door softly behind her. The soft thud seemed to bang in his heart loud and clear.
Jarrod swore, softly, but ferociously. She was dangerous. Tonight, Jarrod realised that he didn't just want Fiona's body. He wanted her heart and her soul. He wanted to wrap himself in her goodness and light and hope to God that it would heal a little of the blackness inside him.
The knowledge was terrifying, even more so than the knowledge that someone was trying to kill him.
He climbed under the covers of his monstrous bed, but didn't fall asleep for some time.