“I like the way you address me,” he responded quietly. “I want you to speak your mind to me. You have every right to question my actions and my ability to be a good husband to you. I deserve it.”
Speak my mind? I felt the tension in my arms as I wrapped them around my torso. I had no idea what to think, so how could I explain my thoughts to him? And if I did, and they were not words he considered correct or—if I were extremely unlucky—words he considered traitorous, what would happen to me then? Both my tears and my words burst forth, and I found myself unable to contain them.
“How?” I exclaimed. “How am I supposed to discern between the questions that will not provoke your ire and those that will? How am I to know when my feelings are justified in your eyes and when they are not?”
I gasped because I knew I had overstepped my bounds. I closed my eyes and held my breath, waiting for the blow to come. Behind my lids, I hid in the darkness, silently remembering the blows of small fists and screams in my ears.
“I’m not going to hit you,” he said softly. There was no anger in his voice. “This is very difficult for you, isn’t it?”
I nodded, and Branford sighed.
“I’m sorry, my lord.”
“Stop that,” he said quickly. “You don’t need to apologize for my inability to teach. As my mother so aptly put it, this is on my shoulders.”
Branford sat back in the chair and ran his fingers through his hair. It ended up sticking out all over his head when he brought his hands down. It made him look much younger, like he did when he was sleeping.
“I don’t know how to teach you,” he admitted. “I’m not even sure where to begin, but I think I need to know how you really feel about me after what I did. Without that, I don’t even know where to start.”
I could feel panic begin to rise in my chest. He wanted to know how I felt about him when I myself wasn’t able to answer the question. I knew I needed him in many ways, but how did I feel about him? He was my husband. How was I supposed to feel? Did he expect me to love him?
“I want you to tell me something, my wife,” he said.
“Yes, Branford?” I waited for him to ask me how I felt, and I tried to formulate something in my head that would be enough to appease him but nothing deceitful and nothing that would provoke his anger. I never wished to have that directed toward me again.
“Tell me exactly what you were thinking when I held you against the wall.”
I froze.
“Your honest thoughts, Alexandra.”
This was not the question I had anticipated. This question had an answer, but again I didn’t know how it would be received. However, he had presented an exact inquiry, and I couldn’t refuse to respond.
“I didn’t know what you were going to do,” I finally answered. My voice was small, and I saw Branford lean forward in his chair to hear me. “I just wanted to tell you that I didn’t mean to…to…embarrass you. I should have known better, but I didn’t do it to hurt you. I thought you were going to kill me, and I wasn’t sure if you would do it here in our rooms or if you were going to take me to the executioner’s block.”
“Did you think you deserved to die for what you did?”
“I…I don’t know.”
“Are you loyal to me, Alexandra?”
“Of course, my lord!”
“So if I had killed you, believing you to be a traitor, would I have been wrong?”
“No, my lord.”
“What?” he said, clearly surprised by my answer though I didn’t understand how he could be. “Why not?”
“Because you will always be right,” I said. “You would have been protecting your family as best you could. I’m only a commoner—”
“You are not a commoner!” Branford bellowed as he stood abruptly and towered over me. I shrank back from his voice. “You are my wife, and there is nothing the least bit common about that! Dammit, Alexandra!”
I startled and tried to
muffle the automatic cry from my mouth as visions from the previous night enveloped me. I wrapped my shaking hands around my shoulders and waited with my head turned and my eyes closed.
“God in heaven,” Branford murmured before I heard him take a step to approach the chair where I sat. I heard the rustle of his clothing before I felt his hands on my knees. “I’m sorry. Alexandra, I didn’t mean to yell, but you…ugh.”