Page 145 of Wolfkissed
I tear my gaze off my future husband, incredulous. “Valen,” I whisper. “What are you doing?”
“What does it look like? Asking to dance with you.” He arches a pale brow. “It is customary to switch dance partners, I believe?”
Lord Eorl turns his gaze on Valen, though his expression is blank, as if he can’t quite place him. Then he releases me and, turning, he walks away.
Just like that.
Valen takes my hand and lifts it to his lips. “My lady.”
I swallow hard, hating how my eyes burn with fear, relief and pleasure. “My lord.”
“Thank you for this honor. I will always cherish the memory of this dance in the days to come.”
A tear slips free and rolls down my cheek. He lifts a hand, his fingertip gentle as he wipes it away. Then he slides his hand around my waist and tugs me closer to his body.
It’s a slow dance. Valen doesn’t seem to pay much heed to the music, which is still fast and furious, but he still somehow manages to keep us in rhythm as we sway slowly under the chandelier.
“I’m so tired,” I whisper, needing someone to understand.
“You should be resting,” he says, and the acknowledgment almost sends me to my knees.
“You shouldn’t have challenged him.”
“It was that obvious, then,” he says darkly, not even pretending to be ignorant of what I’m talking about.
Because Valen has always been straight with me.
His scent, his warmth, and his careful hold on me are soothing. I want to stay like this forever. But yeah, interrupting our argument to all but demand to dance with me was a challenge, and it seems to me, even after mere hours of knowing Lord Eorl, that he won’t let this go easily.
I only just met my betrothed, and I’m already afraid of him.
Is this what our marriage is going to be like?
CHAPTER SIXTY
ROSAMUND
I walk away from Valen after the dance, looking for Lord Eorl. I have to talk to him. Make up. Discuss the future. The past. There is so much I want to tell him and ask him.
But I can’t see him anywhere. I ask one of the guests if she has seen him, but she only stares at me as if I’m some new and interesting animal brought in for her to gawk at.
Next, I ask a maid who informs me that Lord Eorl has retired with his friends for drinks and games. Only men.
“What about the women?” I blurt out.
She curtsies. “Some of them like to gather in the green parlor upstairs, my lady, but only by invitation.”
And I was not invited. I mean, they don’t even know me yet. As for Lord Eorl, I can’t expect him to change his habits for my sake, although… although shouldn’t he?
That’s fine. I’m grateful, really. I’m so tired I can barely keep my eyes open. Not being invited is excellent news. It means I can just go to bed.
That’s the sensible thing to do, instead of fretting over this man getting upset with me over my exhaustion and lack of grace in eating or dancing. There is no rush. I’ll talk to him tomorrow.
I make my way out of the hall and up the stairs, dragging my feet. Oil lamps are lit at intervals, but the place isn’t familiar. I panic a little when I can’t remember which is my room, but another maid comes along holding a candle and, when asked, offers to take me there.
“Here it is, my lady,” she says, opening a blue door and entering. She places the candle in a candleholder on the console. “Shall I turn down your bed? Bring a warming pan?”
“I’m fine.” I enter the room and stand in the middle, trying to calm myself. “I don’t need anything else. Thank you.”
