“Tell me about it,” he said.
“I do not like to recall it,” she said, having locked the memory away.
“I want to know. Tell me,” Bhric insisted, wondering if her reluctance to tell him was due to a lie. Had she been born with the limp? Accidents did happen, but too often it was the person’s own fault. Did she not want to admit her fault?
“I fell from a tree,” she said, the memory returning swiftly.
“What were you doing climbing a tree?” Bhric asked, wanting clearer answers, wanting to believe her.
She said the first thing that came to mind. “Why not climb a tree?”
Again, she avoided details. “You slipped?”
She heard the crack ring in her head as loudly as she had the day it happened. “A branch broke.”
“You did not test the branch before stepping on it?” he asked.
“I was new to tree climbing.”
He got an image in his head of what might have happened. An impetuous lass pays no mind to possible danger, climbs a tree for the first time and falls, leaving her leg permanently damaged and her with a limp. Did he believe her when she had given him such little detail? Or was it the truth and should he be relieved it was not an affliction that could be passed on to their bairns?
“A fault of yours… not thinking reasonably before doing something like petting a hound trained to kill. Bones’ name fits him. He enjoys latching onto bones and tearing the meat from them whether the creature is alive or dead.”
“Then it was a woman’s gentle touch and love that Bones craved and not her flesh.”
Was her touch so gentle and loving that it could actually calm a beast? Could she possibly calm the unrest that stirred in him? He did not know what brought him such unrest and it had only begun a year or more ago. It lingered in him as if waiting, but for what he did not know. It had left him feeling unsettled. He had thought that just the idea of his move to Clan MacShane had caused the unrest and that it would dissipate once here, but it hadn’t.
He did not know what made him ask or snap at her the way he did. “And do you crave love, wife?”
“I do, which is probably why Bones obeyed my commands. He sensed a kindred spirit looking for what he desperately wanted… to be loved.”
“You look for love?” he asked, not sure if she was saying what she thought he might want to hear or if she spoke the truth and was truly hoping to find love.
“Everyone looks for love, at least those with good hearts do,” she said. “Those with cold hearts could care less. Is your heart cold, my lord?”
“Bhric! Come, we hunt!” Sven called out.
He ignored her question, not having an answer for her. “No climbing trees and no touching hounds,” he ordered his wife before turning away from her. When he heard nothing but silence from her, he turned back around. “Did you hear me, wife?”
“I did, my lord,” she said with a bob of her head.
“Did I fail to hear you say, ‘Aye, my lord?’” he asked, his expression stern.
“You could not fail to hear what I did not say, my lord.”
He stepped closer to her. “You refuse to obey my orders?”
“How can I agree to obey when I do not know if I would be able to? Though, I doubt I will be climbing a tree, I would not fail to protect a bairn from a hound again if necessary.”
“You will do no such thing, I forbid it,” he commanded with a biting snap.
“Instinct is a higher commander than you, my lord. It forces one to respond without thought, therefore, I cannot obey when I know instinct will force me to do otherwise.” Tavia continued before her husband could respond. “I speak what you ask of me… the truth.”
Bhric glared at her. “Then hear my truth. Disobey me again and suffer the consequences.” He turned and stormed off. His wife could be vexing at times. Or was it that she strived to do exactly what he had wanted… speak the truth to him? Once again leaving him wondering if she might make him a good wife after all.
Tavia stood watching him walk away, his strides so powerful they left deep tracks in the snow.
“How did you command that hound to do your bidding?”