Page 69 of Urgent Vows
Her fingers tighten convulsively. "Here's hoping I never have to."
"You already have."
"What are you talking about?"
"You ignored your desire for me when you demanded I take your sister on dates to make the wedding a less frightening prospect for her."
Catalina helped plan the wedding despite her own longings and desires. Because she has so much honor, she would never give into weakness and let her sister down. Unlike Carlotta, who left her older sister to face their father's fury when she ran.
Marrying the younger sister would have been a huge mistake on my part. Not something I like admitting, even if only to myself.
"You ignored your fear of your father when you learned to shoot a gun." She'd saved her and her sister's lives with that skill a mere month ago.
"Tio Giovi made that possible."
"You still took the risk, Catalina. You did it again yesterday morning to protect your sister." This woman's courage amazes me. "You lived for years with the knowledge that your father had killed your mother and still, you stood up to him."
I'm not sure my intrepid wife has ever let the emotion of fear dictate a single one of her decisions, or actions. She might be tiny next to me, but she has the spirit of a ten-foot-tall warrior.
"How do you know I did?" she asks.
"Because you've done so with me and I'm a hell of a lot scarier."
"Not to me, but you're right. I did."
"My queen is already tempered steel." I say it with satisfaction. Because one thing her sister would never have been, was a queen to stand by my side. I cannot imagine Catalina in any other place.
"I'm not sure I would go that far."
She will learn to see herself as she is and not the warped vision created in the reflection of her family's toxic fun house mirror.
She shifts like she's going to get out of the bath. "I'm going to have to French braid my hair." There is no enthusiasm for the idea in her tone.
How will braiding it be any easier on her than using the blow dryer? Both require her lifting her hands above her head for long periods of time and that will pull against her bruised ribs. Not acceptable.
"Get it wet and I'll blow dry it for you, like we planned."
She turns now to face me, floating in the water, though her tits press against my chest. "Are you sure?" She's biting her lip again. "Emilia would probably do it if we asked nicely."
I gently tug her lip from her teeth and she blushes as if just now realizing she was doing it. "Emilia already offered the services of one of the maids," I tell my wife. "I declined."
"Why?" Her brows are drawn together in confusion.
I am not ashamed of the truth. "I don't want anyone else touching you right now."
"That's a little obsessive, don't you think?"
"No."
She laughs but doesn't argue further. I pour water from the faucet over her hair, using my cupped hands, as the tub drains. When her hair is soaked, I help her stand and then lift her from the tub.
Catalina stands docilely while I dry her, but when I'm done, she grabs another towel from the heating rack and starts to dry me with it. I let her do everything that doesn't require bending or reaching.
When we are both dry, I take the bottle of pain pills I left on the counter and shake two out. She's supposed to stagger the two analgesics and I'm going to make sure she gets every dose. I give them to her along with a glass of water from the carafe near the sink. She swallows the pills down and I administer the healing cream to her injuries again.
Neither of us speaks. She barely breathes as I touch her carefully, seeking to help relieve her pain. This strange hush between us feels intensely intimate and neither of us seeks to break it.
She sits in the chair in front of the vanity mirror, like she did earlier. Only this time, I work the product through her hair that is supposed to prevent it from getting frizzy.
