Page 1 of His Wounded Heart

Chapter One

The dinner table looked perfect. She’d even used the good china Ned’s mother had given them as a wedding present. The gravy was smooth as silk in the gravy boat right next to his plate.

Liz trembled as she returned to the kitchen and opened the oven. She checked the simmering pot roast and nodded. Using the oven mitts to pull the pan out of the oven, she placed it onto a trivet on her spacious marble island, then she carefully closed the oven door.

She selected her sharpest knife to slice off pieces that were exactly the same thickness because that was how Ned preferred his meat to be cut. Liz started when the front door slammed open and some of the roast’s juice fell onto the island. She bit her lip so she didn’t cuss.

“Elizabeth, why isn’t dinner on the table?” Ned bellowed from the dining room.

“I wanted it to be warm for you, Honey. It’s coming right out.” Even when she called out, she did her best to keep her tone pleasant.

“You better not keep me waiting too long,” he yelled back.

After his meat was properly cut, she added it to the plate already loaded with broccoli and cheese sauce as well as creamy garlic mashed potatoes. Liz fanned the slices out so that the food had a pleasing presentation. When she was done with that, she poured the béarnaise sauce over the meat, just as Ned liked.

Liz carefully walked his plate into the dining room and placed it in front of Ned with her version of a loving smile.

“Where’s my wine?” he barked. “Don’t tell me you haven’t got some pinot noir open and breathing for me,” he warned her.

“It’s right here,” she pointed to the sideboard. “I opened it a half hour ago.”

“Pour me some,” he pointed to his glass.

She took the bottle and brought it over. Her hand trembled when she poured. A little of the red wine spilled on the white tablecloth. It reminded her of blood.

Slowly. Ever so slowly, Ned took the bottle from her hand.

“That’s one, Elizabeth.” She shivered at his low growl.

He poured himself some more wine, then he handed the bottle back to her.

“Can you put it back without spilling any?”

Liz took the bottle in two hands and cradled it like one would a baby, then placed it carefully on the sideboard. She came back with a linen napkin to clean up the spot where the drop of wine had spilled. When she reached out to soak up the drop, Ned gripped her wrist and twisted.

Hard.

“You’re disturbing my dinner.”

Liz fought back a cry of pain. She felt perspiration gather on her upper lip and between her shoulder blades. She knew from experience that she’d be branded with bruises for weeks to come.

“You wouldn’t want to disturb my dinner, now would you, Elizabeth?”

She shook her head, making sure to keep her eyes down.

“Because you were trying to help, I won’t count that as an infraction.”

“Thank you, Ned,” she gulped.

She turned to go to the kitchen, wanting to put ice on her wrist.

“No, don’t go. I want to savor my meal with you by my side.”

Her trembling got worse. “That sounds lovely,” she whispered.

She watched as he speared a piece of broccoli and brought it to his mouth. He chewed, closing his eyes. Liz could tell he was savoring it. She relaxed just a bit.

After he was done chewing, he brought his napkin to his lips, then set it back down in his lap. “That is wonderful. You did well. I see last week’s reprimand helped, just as I thought it would.”