Will You Teach Me…?
This is already the 12th chapter of this fiction and things will start to get tough for Brianna. It's been already five months since she became Mrs. Bonnet; isolation, stress, exhaustion and some of her husband's behaviors are beginning to seriously confuse her mind...
In addition to thanking the few readers who comment on each chapter, I would like – if I may – to encourage the other readers to come and say hello! Don't be shy and give me your thoughts on the chapters, the things you liked (or not), what you think of the development, the characters, their reactions or even just a quick note to tell me that you had a good time reading the story! It helps me a lot to keep writing and translating. It's sad to see there are fewer and fewer interactions between readers and authors on FFnet! I promise you, I don't bite! I'll stop blabbering for now and I hope you'll enjoy this new chapter!
Thanks Rath101, Skylarmikaelson and LykkeF for your reviews, as well as Fanfiction015,WormwoodArtemisia and SirenWolf28 for hitting the follow/fav button!
Rath101: losing a baby could trigger Bonnet's rage…. Or it could trigger something else… Anyway, you'll once again LOVE this chapter, cuz it's deliciously toxic, just as you like them. Enjoy this chapter, darlin'!
Skylarmikaelson: oh you'll have some news about Forbes in a few chapters. But this is an information you'll get at the same time as Bree does. And believe me, you won't expect it at all ! ahaha As for the baby issue, well… all the answers are right here below. Thanks for your review, dear!
LykkeF: ahahah Stephanie being my first name, I will definitely now call any of Bonnet's kids by that name ! Lol And I already used Gloria in the Clover and the Tartan so… I'll have to find another name, eventually. But maybe not this time… (Okay, I stop teasing you, just read and you'll find out ahah) Thanks, my dear!
oOo
12. Carry The Blame
December 15th 1773.
This time, there was no longer any doubt. Delayed menstruation and nausea had soon added to the breast pain that had kicked in at the end of November. To make matters worse, this winter was one of the rainiest and gloomiest she had experienced since she had set foot in North Carolina four years earlier. It was not especially cold, but the rain had kept falling all over the coast since mid-November, covering the place with a particularly depressing and sticky layer of greyish mud. If Brianna had been able to enjoy a bit of freedom so far – mostly playing with Jemmy in the garden – the wet and cold grounds had deterred child and mother from venturing outside. Exacerbating her feeling of isolation and loneliness.
Sitting on the large windowsill of the master bedroom – wrapped in her dressing gown – Brianna swallowed a sip of ginger tea. Another luxury that only the wealthiest citizens of the Thirteen Colonies could afford, since at the time a single root of ginger cost the equivalent of a small sheep. And Stephen bought a whole crate just for me…, she thought with a disapproving frown. However, she had not dared to complain about it out loud: the ginger helped with the nausea, which was particularly strong – much stronger than when she was pregnant with Jemmy.
Unconsciously, her gaze shifted to her right towards the cupboard. Somewhere inside, well hidden under thick blankets, was the sage she would soon have to use. Brianna knew there was no time to waste; that each passing day allowed the embryo to cling a little harder to her womb. But something was holding her back. Fear.
Of a dosing error. Of complications from an incomplete miscarriage. Of infection. Of all possible physical and psychological after-effects. But especially of getting caught and handed over to the authorities. The fate of women who aborted in this century was unenviable. But having another child would only add an extra lock to her golden cage. Another obstacle between her and her return to the 20th century. Not to mention the risk of being separated from her kids during her passage through the stones...
Four years earlier, when her mother had offered to terminate her pregnancy, she had refused. Because she had clung to the idea that the child was Roger's. Because she was already more than two months pregnant and a simple herbal tea would never have been enough to solve the problem. Because she was afraid of dying without suitable equipment and antibiotics. She probably would not have thought twice about it in her time, but not here. Not in a century where scratching yourself with a single rusty nail could kill you.
In other words, she had to act fast… before it was too late. She had no doubts as to her ability to love this child if he or she came into the world – just as she had loved Jemmy the second she had held him for the first time – but the power that Stephen would then have over her would jeopardize her chances of escaping. Not to mention the exhaustion and the hormones that would make her as malleable and fragile as a rag doll.
She had gotten to that point in her thoughts, when a thick blanket was put over her shoulders and she jumped, nearly spilling her tea.
"You'll catch a cold if you stay by the window…", Bonnet muttered, tightening the blanket around her. As she rolled her eyes and made a gesture to put the cup on a small pedestal table, he pushed her hand (and the cup) back towards her face. "And drink your tea. Need I remind you that it cost me a fortune…"
"Need-I-remind-you-that-it-cost-me-a-fortune", Brianna mumbled between her teeth, almost at the same time as her husband. She had heard the same old tune almost every morning since the ginger had been delivered to River Run. Bonnet squinted, but a smirk appeared on his lips and he did not even react to Bree's insolence. Instead of scolding her, he turned away to put on his waistcoat and slowly buttoned it up, thinking intently. On the windowsill, Brianna pretended not to notice him and took another sip, while the blanket slipped down her right shoulder.
"I was wondering what to say to Jeremiah…", Stephen went on, pulling the blanket back up around Brianna's neck, and this time a few drops of tea spilled in the saucer.
"Dammit-… About what?" Silence fell in the room and she saw Stephen staring at her in amazement, before looking down at her lower abdomen. "Oh…"
She had not even considered telling Jeremiah anything, since this pregnancy would probably not last more than a month and a half. But obviously, Bonnet did not know that…
"It is still… a bit early, don't you think?", she asked, smiling embarrassedly.
"Aye, you're probably right…"
She saw his eyes shift to the right and squint, as he always did whenever he was thinking about something.
"He will be delighted, won't he? Bein' a big brother is somethin' that would make a young boy happy, aye?"
Brianna raised her eyebrows, taken aback by this odd question, and nodded. "Of course... Wouldn't you be in his place?"
"How would I know? I never had any family."
Hmm, I don't know. Try to imagine it… Use a bit of that empathy of yours? Oh, right... you don't have any..., Brianna sneered internally, still managing to look perfectly neutral and even put a smile on her face. "He will be over the moon. Let's just wait a bit longer before we break the news to him. Just in case… something goes wrong."
"Of course, darlin'...", he repeated softly, staring at her again with a lecherous grin that would make a whore blush. Brianna was not sure if it was because he knew she was pregnant or the mere sight of her swollen breasts, but he had been particularly horny lately, to her great misfortune. Luckily, Brianna was already nauseous, so he did not take offense when she refused to have sex, putting a hand to her stomach and wincing in disgust.
Stephen motioned for her to drink and she rolled her eyes for the umpteenth time that morning. If she allowed herself all these funny faces and effrontery, it was because Stephen himself had become much more permissive since her pregnancy had been confirmed. He had not left River Run once in three weeks, focusing his attention on her, which annoyed Brianna beyond reason. Not only because his presence weighed heavy on her, but also because she found that unexpected change of temper quite pleasant. She was too exhausted by the nausea to keep playing her perfect wife act on a round the clock basis. The fact that he tolerated her mood swings was strangely relaxing, and the last months' tension had somewhat eased. Obediently, she finished her cup and he immediately took it, his fingers brushing against her hand in the process.
A nervous smile appeared on Brianna's lips. The problem was not that he had touched her. She had gotten used to physical contact a long time ago… No, what bothered her was precisely to realize that she had gotten used to it. As if she had accepted her status as Mrs. Brianna Bonnet and this new life with him. But… if she accepted it, wasn't it a sign that she was giving up the fight? No, her thirst for Justice was still there. She had simply admitted that it would take time. Weeks at first. Then months… Years, maybe… She shivered at the thought and immediately heard Stephen growl.
"I knew you would get cold…"
Grabbing the blanket – with Bree inside – he forced her to stand up and pulled her against him, tightening the fabric around her body. When the young woman looked up, another shiver ran down her spine: there was something unusual in his green irises. Something sweet. Tenderness. Another obstacle to her abortion, that she had tried to ignore. Even if she managed to end this pregnancy and get away with it, what would happen between them? Will that be the end of their truce? Would Bonnet go back to being his usual twisted self? Perhaps he would even be worse than before, having lost his new leverage? Because that was all he cared about, right? A man like him could not actually care about a bunch of tiny cells, as fragile as a dandelion in the wind.
"You're right, I'll go get dressed...", Brianna said, trying to free herself, but he pulled her back against his chest, sliding his hands under the blanket to grab her hips. One second later, he had rested his forehead on Bree's, closing his eyes. The girl did not move an inch, wondering what would happen, but Bonnet just seemed to... enjoy the moment, without any ulterior motive. One minute later, his eyelids fluttered and he pulled away, kissing Bree's forehead. Ignoring her puzzled expression, he took a few steps back to get a scarf from his closet and tie it around his neck.
"Do you think you will be able to travel to New Bern on Christmas? The governor is invitin' us to his annual dinner…", Stephen said simply.
Brianna frowned: the last thing she wanted was to spend the holidays season with the other man responsible for her misfortune… until she remembered the conversation she had overheard a few weeks earlier. A special event would take place in New Bern on the day after Christmas. The only way to find out more was to go there.
"Do we really have to go?", she grumbled anyway, so as not to arouse Stephen's suspicions.
"I do… and I have no intention to leave you alone here…", he added with a mocking grin. "You don't like our good ol' governor, am I right?"
"Oh let's see… He's a misogynist, he's contemptuous… and contemptible too by the way. He is waging a merciless war against the Regulators, who only demand fair taxes. He contributes to the genocide of native Americans... and a little bird told me that he is teaming up with pirates. I really wonder why I am not fond of him."
She had deliberately stared at Bonnet stressing on the word "pirates", and the corners of his mouth twitched, as if he had appreciated her touch of humor.
"A misogynist, no less?"
"I do not like the way he talks about me... and I did not like the way he treated his wife in front of us last summer...", she replied, shaking her head.
"That's his wife's problem, not yours."
"When he humiliates her under my roof and in my presence, I believe this becomes my problem as well…"
Silence fell again in the room and Bonnet nodded, almost agreeing with her. "And that is the reason why I always treat you like a queen in public..." As Brianna frowned, he finished tying his scarf and winked at her on his way out. "So that no one is tempted to come and save you…"
Brianna watched the bedroom door slam shut. So, that's what it was all about: the beautiful dresses, the extravagant jewelry, the gentleman's act... His only goal was to make her look like a pampered wife, so that no one would know what she really was: a captive. And the embryo growing inside her was just another decorative element of his comedia dell'arte. Her chest tightened as she realized she had to act now. Today, even. She could not let him be so sweet and gentle with her anymore — she'd much rather hate him — or risk him announcing her pregnancy to Jeremiah. Would she still have the strength to abort after seeing Jeremiah's eyes radiate with happiness at the thought of having a sibling? Probably not.
Rummaging through her cupboard, she took out the small purse that contained the cut and dried sage, then poured some of the leaves into the teapot. The taste, mixed with ginger, would be awful but she couldn't risk going down to the kitchen to boil some water, so soon after finishing her morning tea. Plus, Phaedre would soon come in and clean up the evidence.
Brianna had long weighed up the pros and cons about Phaedre. Although she did not doubt the girl's discretion, she was also very pious and what Bree was about to do was one of the worst crimes a woman could commit in this religious era. It was therefore wiser not to say anything… even if having another woman by her side would have been reassuring.
The leaves seemed to take an eternity to brew and she jumped at the slightest sound in the hallway, anxious at the thought of anyone interrupting her and taking away the tray, teapot and cup before she could drink. But no one came and soon the liquid in the teapot became darker. With an unsteady hand, Brianna filled her cup to the brim and lifted it. All she had to do was to stop thinking, drink the entire beverage as fast as possible. And wait...
I'm sor-
A wave of guilt, towards the being that had settled in her womb, suddenly overwhelmed her and she quickly raised the cup to her lips to gulp it down. Before filling it up again and drinking the remaining ounces. The taste was worse than she expected. She was slamming the cup back on its saucer, almost retching, when someone knocked three times at the door. Phaedre came in and seemed surprised for a moment to see her mistress bending over the pedestal table, one hand clasped over her mouth and her eyes watering.
"Is everything all right, Madam?", the maid asked, rushing to her side.
Brianna nodded frantically and waited for the nausea to taper off. "I just felt very sick all of a sudden… I'll be fine."
Phaedre gave her a worried look but nodded, taking the tray. Bree saw her wrinkle her nose and look down at the teapot. The smell…, Brianna thought immediately. It doesn't smell like ginger anymore... The young woman straightened up, trying to look as normal as possible, but her every move betrayed how nervous she was. Phaedre's dark eyes went from Brianna to the teapot, before landing one last time on her. First, staring into her blue irises… then slowly looking down towards her abdomen. She knows…, Brianna whimpered internally, hiding her right hand under the blanket so that Phaedre would not see it tremble. But as Bree already saw herself imprisoned and sentenced to death, a sad smile appeared on the young girl's lips; so full of compassion that Brianna felt a painful lump in her throat.
"Would you like me to prepare a hot bath for you, Madam?"
Brianna's heart nearly exploded in her chest and her eyes immediately filled with tears. This simple question was not just a thoughtful gesture. It was also an oath to remain silent, a pledge of support and a promise to take her secret to the grave. Bree nodded sharply, unable to utter a word, but Phaedre took no offense and tiptoed out of the room, taking the evidence away with her.
~o~
After several days without any particular incident (and three other teapots of sage), Brianna's condition had gradually deteriorated. The nausea had become unbearable, pain had taken hold of her belly, and she had noticed a few drops of blood on her petticoats. She had more or less managed to hide it, until she had left the house with Jeremiah and Blue to play in the garden between two rain showers. But when she had got home to change and despite the crisp winter air that was supposed to pink up her cheeks and nose… she was livid.
While Phaedre carried Jemmy to his bedroom so that he would not soil the floor with his muddy shoes, Brianna stopped at the top of the stairs to catch her breath after a particularly painful cramp. A little further up the corridor, she heard the office door open, then her husband's voice and that of another man. She straightened up hastily to conceal her pain, but her pale complexion and her left hand clenched on the banister would not mislead anyone. And especially not Stephen Bonnet's sharp eye.
"Anoder successful evenin' like dis one and we could all afford a plantation like yers... or a peaceful retreat in de Caribbean!", the stranger laughed as he left the office – followed by Happy, who closed the door behind him. His untidy attire contrasted sharply with Bonnet's and his usual partners' fancy clothes, and if Brianna's thoughts had not been so focused on the pain she was feeling at that moment, she would have noticed it. "Who'd have thought dey'd all be ready to pay so moech for dese-…?"
"Brianna?"
The young woman took a deep breath and turned to Bonnet and his guest with a polite smile. Before she could even say anything, Bonnet had rushed over to her and was staring at her anxiously. The visitor, on the other hand, had stopped in the middle of the corridor, watching her in an extremely disturbing way, without Brianna really knowing why his gaze was so unpleasant to her.
"Is everythin' alright?", Bonnet muttered against her cheek and she nodded.
"It's nothing… I was very tired too… when I was pregnant with Jem-…" The end of her sentence was lost in a groan of pain and she saw the pirate's expression change from worry to something closer to fear. With a fake smile, he turned to his guest and motioned him down the stairs.
"Mr. Joyce, my sweet wife is in a delicate situation… If you don't mind, we could end this conversation on another day?"
The man lifted his chin, his eyes still on Brianna. "Congratulations."
He was speaking coldly, without any emotion and it was obvious that he did not give a damn about her pregnancy. And it was at that moment – when another painful cramp seemed to tear her womb apart – that Brianna understood what was bugging her about Joyce. He was not looking at her. He was assessing her. Just as one would inspect a horse before buying it. The second he had laid his small black eyes on her, she had felt like cattle, a mere commodity...
Another wail burst from Bree's lips and she bent double in pain. She vaguely heard Joyce take his leave, then Bonnet asking Happy to fetch the doctor in Cross Creek. Then, he took her to their room and laid her on the bed with Phaedre's help. The maid had just taken off Bree's boots, gaiters and skirt, when her gaze fell on the white petticoat – the last layer left over her bare legs. The white fabric was gradually reddening in the middle, causing Phaedre to pause momentarily. Although she had implicitly understood what Brianna had done, having a visual confirmation was quite another story and the maid's lower lip trembled for a few seconds before she found the strength to snap out of it. Her dark eyes then met Brianna's wild, feverish gaze, but neither said a word. There was nothing to say, anyway. So much so that when the third person in the room spoke, Phaedre flinched in surprise.
"By Danu…"
He saw right through me. He saw right through me and he's going to kill me... Trembling with pain and terror, Brianna turned towards Bonnet but did not find any anger on his face. The Irishman was staring at the scarlet stain with wide eyes and apart from the blood pulsing in his temples, he remained perfectly still, as if the sight of his wife's bloodied underwear brought back terrible memories. When Brianna wailed again, however, he seemed to snap out of his trance and blinked several times.
"The doctor will never arrive in time…", he whispered in a quavering voice.
What?, Brianna thought, panicking between two contractions of her uterus. Am I bleeding so much? Does it look like I'm going to die? Craning her neck, she glanced down at her crotch, but the amount of blood did not seem lethal to her. At a pinch, it was equivalent to very heavy periods but nothing to be concerned about for now.
"Cross Creek is not that far, Sir", Phaedre said calmly, bringing a basin of clean water and a small towel for Brianna's forehead.
"Last time, she died before me eyes…"
At these words, Bree and Phaedre stared at him in amazement. What last time, exactly? The last time you tricked a girl into marrying you, held her hostage and impregnated her? Brianna glanced at Phaedre, who was probably wondering the exact same thing, but (un-?)fortunately for them, Bonnet thought it useful to provide an explanation.
"A harlot, in Charleston… She was pregnant, her belly as round as a cannonball. We were doin' our business when she started bleedin' just like that." He pointed a shaky finger at the stain. "She was dead before I could get all me clothes back on."
This time, both women were so horrified and disgusted that Bree almost forgot her pain for a minute.
"With all due respect, Sir, you should not say such dreadful things in front of your wife! And especially not now!", Phaedre vehemently exclaimed. Any other rich man of this time would have felt disrespected by the maid's behavior, but Bonnet was so overtaken by events that he did not even notice. He was staring at Brianna, as if to measure the impact of his story on her, and saw his wife clench her teeth with both pain and loathing.
"Get out."
"It happened a long time ago…", he blurted out, as if that changed everything.
"GET OUT OF THE FUCKING ROOM, STEPHEN!"
The pirate jumped violently and took a step back. The thought of reminding her who was giving orders around here crossed his mind, but her sallow complexion, teary blue eyes and fists clenching on the bedsheets – not to mention that damned stain growing bigger by the minute – discouraged him to do so. He had screwed up. That was all he could read in Brianna's eyes: he had screwed up again. One second later, he had left the room as fast as he could.
~o~
A certain Dr. Kent had finally showed up, four hours later, and – despite Bonnet's protests – had locked himself in the room with Brianna and Phaedre, leaving him behind the door like a common stray dog. He had examined Brianna first, then inspected the blood on the sheets, before asking the maid to replace them with clean ones, several times a day. He had spoken for a long time, in a calm and steady voice, as if he did not want to upset her with the "bad" news.
Brianna was only half-listening at first, until he confirmed the expulsion of the embryo, then soon retreated into complete silence – her eyes on the bright, full moon that could be seen through the window. The doctor had drawn a long breath, leaving her side to meet Bonnet in the corridor when Phaedre returned with a cup of steamy amber liquid – inviting Bree to drink it on the window-sill while she changed the sheets. The smell of hot rum, honey and cinnamon immediately filled the room and Brianna could almost see her mother cross her arms and shake her head, as she did every time Jamie "treated" his flus and other ailments of winter with a few glasses of hot whiskey. In other circumstances, she would have refused the drink but after that nightmarish evening, the sweet warmth of alcohol and honey comforted her more than she cared to admit.
In the corridor, the doctor was talking to Bonnet in a neutral voice, and Brianna stifled a sigh of relief when the word "miscarriage" was pronounced. No one suspected her. Phaedre's hand rested briefly on her shoulder and the young maid gave a sad but encouraging smile, before rearranging the pillows. All those thoughtful gestures were gradually filling Brianna's eyes with tears and she suddenly had the irrepressible need to be alone. Completely alone.
Putting the almost empty cup on the pedestal table, she lay down between the cool sheets and wrapped herself in the thick quilt that the maid had placed over the sheets. Extra layers of linen had been placed in the middle of the mattress to avoid staining the bedding and she carefully placed her hips on them. Phaedre blew out the candles—except for one on her bedside table—and slipped out of the room, leaving the door ajar on the way out. Bree did not know if it was the anxiety, the blood loss, or the brand new and icy sheets around her, but she was shivering. Her whole body was shaking and she curled up, pulling the quilt tighter around her.
"…a fairly common phenomenon. And when I say 'common', I'm talking about two maybe three out of ten pregnancies. Women are more fragile than we are, Mr. Bonnet, even more when they are pregnant. A heat stroke, a cold, malnutrition, a violent emotion… a lot of things can cause a miscarriage, especially inland where life is tougher. My colleagues in the cities would tell you that the mere fact of being afraid of pregnancy can cause a woman to miscarry, but I do not agree. The causes that I have observed during my years of practice are most often physical and environmental."
Fuck you and your 'female fragility'…, Brianna internally groaned, cowering a bit more under the sheets. But the thick cocoon of fabric and feathers that she was trying to create around her was not enough to block the doctor's deep voice, and she was considering covering her ears when he spoke again.
"I wouldn't be too worried if I were you, Mr. Bonnet. You already have a perfectly healthy son and despite her current condition, I have good reason to believe that your wife is healthy as well. A few weeks of rest and everything will be back to normal. Do not hesitate to… encourage her. She must not lose herself into unnecessary mourning. Those who already have several children are used to miscarriages, but younger and inexperienced women can abandon themselves to melancholy. They think they failed at their primary function, which is to give children to their husbands. Show her that you are not disappointed, keep trying regularly… and you will most certainly be the proud father of another child before next Christmas."
Brianna covered her mouth with a trembling hand, feeling suddenly nauseated. Besides the absolutely sickening paternalism of the doctor's speech, he had raised a point that she had not even considered – being too focused on the immediate problem. She had certainly got rid of that embryo… but as soon as her menstrual cycle would get back to normal, everything would start again. The sex, the secret code to avoid fateful days, the anxiety every time her period was a bit late... How many times would she have to do this? How many days of pain, how many cups of sage tea, how many tears shed, how many, how many, how many-
And all of that because of him...
No.
All of that because of me.
Brianna stifled a whimper as her brain started to make a list of all the bad decisions that had led her to this exact moment, in this room and in this situation. Taking a room at the Willow Tree Tavern. Arguing with Roger instead of reacting like an adult. Following Bonnet into the other room…
Visiting him in that goddamn prison.
Burying her fingers into her hair, she dug her nails into her skull – curling up into a fetal position, now shaking violently.
Telling him Jeremiah was his son. Being stupid enough to think it was a fucking good idea.
Her jaw hurt from clenching her teeth, but she ignored the pain – which was still less significant than her current distress.
Not running away when I had the chance. Thinking I could win the damn trial.
She moaned as the first tears began to roll down her cheeks.
Not giving up on Jeremiah like Roger want-
Stop. No. Anything but that. She could blame herself for a lot of things, but that decision was the only one she knew was right. Jeremiah was her child, her flesh and blood...
Like the flesh and blood Phaedre just sent to the laundry?
Brianna's breathing became erratic and she did not realize she was having a panic attack until it was far too late to stop it. Inside her head, the little accusing voice had become aggressive and bitter.
You could have tried to run away. You could have tried to kill Stephen in his sleep. You could have refused him. Instead, you put on an act. You let him take you... sometimes several times a week... At this point, you can't call it making bad decisions anymore, but being downright stupid!
These decisions, she had made them in all good conscience. To survive. To be with Jeremiah. Because she was afraid of what might happen if she did not play Bonnet's sick little game. She knew all those reasons by heart – playing them over and over in her mind to reassure herself – but now that she needed them most, none came to her mind. Guilt was making such a racket in her brain that the only thing that brought her back to reality was a deafening creak behind her back. Somewhere between the list of her mistakes and her self-diagnosis of stupidity, the doctor had left and Bonnet had entered the room. All of a sudden, the loud insulting voices died down and Brianna's brain became as empty and silent as a black hole. Her entire being was now focused on two things: Stephen's presence behind her and finding a way not to explode with rage when he would inevitably touch her.
Fingers brushed against her shoulder and she shifted a few inches forward to stay out of reach. God only knew he must not touch her, or she might do things that would only get her a one-way ticket to Fraser's Ridge. Or a shallow grave.
"Brianna", he whispered carefully. Could he feel her anger? Could he feel it was directed at him? Or did he just think she was mourning her lost baby? She wasn't even sure he had enough empathy to understand any of this.
"Leave me alone."
There was a sigh and Bonnet's hand became more insistent, inviting her to turn around and face him. Bree's arm rose from under the quilt and slapped his fingers. Even if she could not see him, Brianna knew he was staring angrily at her and that he would unfortunately not stop there.
"Bria-"
"Screw you."
This time, the words had just popped out. Another thing she would definitely add to her long list of shitty decisions, but she was way too upset and nervous to care. And when Bonnet's arms forced her to turn around, all the self-hate and guilt that had overwhelmed her a few minutes ago poured out on him as a hail of punches and slaps.
Brianna's arms and hands were flailing, punching, scratching, pulling, tearing anything within reach. For a few tens of seconds, Bonnet remained strangely motionless, as if he allowed her to release her emotions. But after a particularly painful encounter between his chin and Brianna's knuckles, he got slightly annoyed and tried to immobilize the young woman's wrists.
A brief struggle ensued – punctuated with furious grunts – until he managed to tighten his arms around her chest. Limited in her movements, Brianna stifled an angry cry and squirmed to escape from his grip, but he held on. She had learned it the hard way four years earlier: he was far too strong for her to break free. When the noose of his arms closed around her, nothing could loosen it.
She shuddered as one of Bonnet's hands slid up her back to dive into her red hair, while the other circled her waist. He did not seem about to kill her, or punish her, or claim any sexual favor… Then what the fuck is he doing? The answer came to her when he buried his face in the crook of her neck. Nothing inappropriate. A simple embrace that he certainly wanted comforting, but which had the opposite effect. How could he comfort her, when he was responsible for all of this? How could he cuddle her like that, like a child after a nightmare, when he was the only reason the nightmare would keep happening every day, over and over again?
"Get off me!"
"No."
He had spoken calmly – almost gently – rekindling Brianna's anger as she started to wriggle again.
"I don't-… I said no… Let go of me!"
He could not act like a loving husband now. Not when everything, absolutely everything bad that had happened to her in the past four years had been his fault. Including what had just happened tonight. But as usual, Stephen Bonnet did not hear the word "no" and he hugged her a little tighter, as if trying to merge their two bodies into one. He did not pull away when Brianna managed to free one of her arms, or when she started pounding at him. He did not move either when she yelled it was all his fault, or when she dug her nails into his sleeve, scratching the skin raw.
The man's stillness disconcerted her almost as much as it pissed her off. She almost wished he'd hit her, so she could blame him entirely for the pain she was feeling—and no longer blame herself for causing it. But even more than the guilt, it was the shame that ate her up. Because little by little, Bonnet's strong, warm arms around her body were taking out some of the tension, calming her down and bringing tears back into her eyes.
"It's all your fault…", she whispered one last time, her fingernails still digging into the pirate's arm, but at a less frantic pace. Until she just desperately clang to it.
And burst into tears.
oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
And that's it for today! The beginning of this chapter was soooo sweet… and ended in the most awful way… One thing remained the same, though, did you notice? Stephen seemed to be delighted that Bree was pregnant, and he was much more thoughtful than usual, even after the tragedy… What if it went on like this? Just think about it for one second… imagine how much more confused Brianna's already exhausted brain would be if he just kept on acting like this… hehehe.
You also met Mr. Joyce. What do you think? What is that dude selling? Any ideas?
I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Do not hesitate to leave a comment, I always enjoy reading and answering them! The next chapter will be updated on Sunday, July 3rd!
Xoxo
Xérès