Page 148 of Wolfkissed
I shudder. “Why did you stay with him?”
“Not all of us have a choice.”
“I don’t have a choice, either,” I whisper.
Don’t I, though? We aren’t married yet. What stops me from leaving now?
Everything. Where would I go? Who would I be? How would I run through the smoking ashes of the life I’d imagined for myself?
Patience,I tell myself.Remember, this is a misunderstanding. You only need time to talk and clear everything up. Don’t listen to rumors, don’t let insecurity force you into the wrong conclusions. He said he has business with this woman. What if he’s telling the truth?
He’d better be, because the alternative is unbearable.
CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE
ROSAMUND
Right before lunch, I spot Lord Eorl crossing the garden underneath my window, and with a quiet curse, I fly out of my room and down the stairs. At breakneck speed, I race through the hall and burst out of the manor to catch him before he enters.
“Lord Eorl!”
He frowns and stops. “Good Gods, Rosamund. You’re out of breath. That’s so unbecoming on a lady. What’s the matter? I expect that something terrible must have happened to warrant such behavior.”
I flinch. I seem to keep committing mistakes without realizing, and every time he reprimands me is like a lash falling on my mind.
“Speak up, Rosamund,” he says when I hesitate. “It’s lunch time.”
“May I call you Orvyn, my lord?”
“No,” he says, “you may not.”
I start at the unexpected reply. “But you call me Rosamund!”
“And you believe our status is the same?”
I stare at him, open-mouthed.
“You may call me by my given name after the wedding,” he concedes, looking away. “That I will permit. It would look weird otherwise.”
I swallow hard, swallow the hurt. Doesn’t he see the conflict in his words? Should I demand he call me by my family name, also? I’m not sure about the social norms outside my home. “Fine. I will ask for some time with you, my lord, for?—”
“You should stay away from that fae.”
My hands are shaking. “Wh… what?”
“That male you arrived with. Keep away from him. The tongues are?—”
“Wagging.” I nod, feeling sick. “They are wagging about a lot of matters, my lord. The thing is?—”
“I want what is best for you, Rosamund.”
That takes the wind out of my sails. “Of course.”
“Can’t you see that? I won’t have my wife’s name dragged through the dirt. That’s reflecting badly on us. Both of us.”
“I understand,” I whisper.
“Do you?” he demands.
