“You are so…innocent. You are completely naïve of all the things I have been inundated with since my childhood. I don’t think I have ever known anyone quite like you.”
“I will learn,” I whispered. “I promise I’ll learn to read, and I’ll learn anything else—”
“That is not what I meant!” Branford yelled suddenly, and I cringed. He pushed back from the mantle and rubbed one hand over his face. He mumbled a curse and collected himself before turning back to me. For a moment, he looked into my eyes, and then he took a step forward and dropped down in front of my chair, his hands reaching out to caress my face. “Your innocence is part of your beauty. It is what I…what I like about you. It is what draws me to you. I’m only afraid you will lose it when you are exposed to the life I have placed before you.”
Branford turned his head and stared over my shoulder with a faraway look.
“When I saw you…right after Sunniva left…and you were”—his eyes closed for a moment, and I could see his Adam’s apple bob in his throat—“you were on the floor. You were crying and afraid, and I knew it was all because of me. And then you…”
He stopped again, drew in a quick breath, and then all his words came out at once.
“You asked me not to kill you, and it felt like someone had just stabbed me in the gut. It was not what I had envisioned—not what I wanted. I wanted you to…I hoped we would...”
Branford sighed and leaned back. His gaze met mine again. He touched my cheek with his fingers and then ran them over my shoulder and down my arm.
“My birth parents met twice before they were wed,” he told me. “The Monroe family had no male heir, and the Sterlings had both Camden and my father—twin boys. Camden was always destined to be king since he was born half an hour before my father, but it had much potential for causing strife as they grew into adulthood. It was decided when they were both quite young that Branford the Third would become lord over Sterling as Camden became King of Silverhelm.”
“They were wed young, but my father did not move to Sterling until a few years later. Eventually, they learned to care for each other even though their marriage was arranged. Camden and Sunniva had never even met before their wedding day, but they too have found more than just a political union.”
“Ida and Parnell are very much in love,” Branford said. “I swear they fell in love with each other before they could even walk. I remember him crawling over to her as a toddler and bringing her toys to play with. Parnell will be the Lord of Sawyer when his father passes, and Ida will take on his titles. I was the only one without an obvious match, it seemed.”
“When I first began to think of choosing a wife, and Camden was trying to coerce me into willingly taking Whitney’s hand, I found myself watching them—Camden and Sunniva—and wondering how it could have happened.”
“How what could have happened?” I finally asked when he didn’t elaborate.
“They learned to care for each other,” Branford said. “They knew nothing of each other before they were wed, but now…now they love each other very much.”
My breath caught in my throat as I tried to understand exactly what my husband was saying. There was a part of me—likely the same part of every young woman who ever dreamed of a prince taking her away on his horse—that wanted to believe he was saying what it sounded like he was saying. Could he truly want more from our marriage than just someone he could trust to share his rooms and his bed? Unbidden, I remembered his words from the other night—“I want you to care for me.” I had assumed he meant to care for his needs, but as the words echoed through my memory, I found myself wondering if he hadn’t meant something else entirely.
He reached out and brushed a fallen tear from my face.
“Please, don’t be upset,” Branford said. He traced over my cheek with the backs of his fingers. “This is supposed to be our wedding night renewed, and I’ve ruined it yet again. I don’t want you to cry. I apologize for being so quick to anger, and I will try to be better with you. You allowed me to try to make amends by starting our marriage over the other night. Pray, will you also allow me to start this night again?”
I responded with a nod, for if he was willing to forget what I had done, I was certainly not averse to beginning yet again. He stood and took my hand, pulling me to my feet and then switching places with me. When I was again settled in his lap, he smiled sadly.
“I think I am blessed,” he said.
“Blessed?”
“To have chosen a woman with such patience, if that’s what it is. Your willingness to forgive may be the only way I have a chance.”
“A chance at what?”
Branford focused on my eyes, and for the first time, he looked strangely unsure of himself.
“A chance of”—he paused and took a breath before continuing—“a chance maybe you can forgive me for what I did.”
“I do,” I whispered.
Branford blinked a couple of times before he cupped my cheek and kissed me softly. He traced over the skin of my cheek, then down my neck until his hand rested on my shoulder—right at the edge where the fabric of my dress met my skin.
“You look so tired,” Branford said as he scanned my face.
“Somewhat,” I admitted.
“Perhaps we should sleep.”
I was unsure if it was a question or a statement, but the idea that he might postpone this night again was appalling to me.